Harry Potter and the Eternal Guardian
by Quillian
Summary: An ancient wizard with a hidden tower sanctuary takes Harry Potter in as his own; AU to the entire saga. YES, this story is still active; still working on the next chapter. Please inquire inside for more details. Formerly "Harry Potter and the Tower of Pime". ON HIATUS - PLEASE READ THE NEW NOTICE! (May 28, 2013)
1. PROLOGUE: ANCIENT HISTORY

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Harry Potter_ or anything related to that franchise, but it belongs to J.K. Rowling and some various other people.

**SPECIAL DISCLAIMER:** This is purely a work of fanfiction, an AU tale of Harry's seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If I ever borrow from another source, such as another work of fanfiction, it will be properly cited and credited, although I doubt I'll want to borrow anything from anyone for this particular fic.

**CONTENT WARNING:** Anything you would see in the _Harry Potter_ books themselves, you would see here. Some violence, a few character deaths, minor profanity, a little bit of blood… so, seeing as this is an AU story to the canon books, which somewhere along the way have crossed over from "children's literature" to something above that, I'd rate this "PG-13" or "T," depending on which ratings system you use.

**SPOILER WARNING:** Read the _Harry Potter_ books first.

**PAIRING WARNING:** I don't know yet which pairings will be in this fic, but it won't have slash.

**SUMMARY:** Long ago, a powerful but obscure wizard named Pime built a magical tower, one which he deemed the most worthy could inhabit. But will it accept the young wizard known as Harry Potter? (AU TO THE ENITRE HARRY POTTER SAGA)

**UPDATE, 8/12/2012:** I have changed the title of this story from "Harry Potter and the Tower of Pime" to "Harry Potter and the Eternal Guardian", so you shouldn't be confused.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is an idea I've had for a while now, and decided to start but to get back to later. I intend to get back to this once I've finished reading the _Harry Potter_ saga. But since I have the basic idea for it fresh in my head right now, why not at least write this? (A more detailed explanation for the inspirations of this fic can be found at the bottom after the story text.)

* * *

**_Harry Potter and the Eternal Guardian_**

_By Quillian_

* * *

_Dedicated to **J.K. Rowling** herself for writing her _Harry Potter_ books in the first place._

* * *

_Thanks to my beta-reader and Brit-picker, **Coulsdon**** Eagle**._

* * *

"May you live in interesting times." _–Chinese proverb_

* * *

**PROLOGUE: ANCIENT HISTORY**

Northern Africa, circa 5500 B.C.

It was just another day in the life of Pim.

The young man was living with his tribe, foraging for food in the lush green lands which seemed to be shrinking with every passing generation.

Pim was also a restless young man. He was also… _strange_ in a way.

He was strange in that he thought about things that no one else thought about. _Where does the sun go during the night? Where do people go after they die? How did life come to be in the first place? What does the whole world look like? What is the world's actual shape?_

However, Pim's elders simply told him that thinking too much and too often about such things would not do much good, especially those to which he may never find the answers.

And so, Pim went about, secretly going over things in his head even while he moved about with the rest of his tribe. They often journeyed towards the edges of the green lands to where there were hot, harsh desert sands as far as the eye could see.

However, in secret, Pim experimented with things which only he could seem to do. He knew the myths and legends of mighty beings which could do seemingly impossible things which mere mortal humans could not do.

It was all impossible, and yet it seemed as real as himself and the earth which he stood on. It was like…

_Magic._

He could make things float, come near him or farther from him… and was it him, or did he once manage to turn a handful of sand into a different color?

Pim was so thrilled and scared at the same time of his hidden powers, and thought it best to keep his powers secret.

Unfortunately for him, an event which would irreversibly change his life forever would change the secret status of his powers.

A young woman to whom Pim was attracted, named Amu, was searching for food for their tribe while simultaneously picking flowers for herself. However, using his "special" talents, Pim quickly detected a serpent sneaking in the tall grass, looking for a victim to strike at.

The creature hissed, and Amu suddenly stood ramrod straight, alert and tense. In the next instant, the thing hissed and leaped, hoping to strike with deadly intent.

She screamed, and Pim acted fast to do something – _anything_ – to save her life.

With a sudden motion of his hand as if grasping out for something, the serpent suddenly froze in mid-air, level with Amu's heart and its teeth-baring head mere inches away from her terrified face.

It was quite disconcerting to see, as it was so… _unnatural_.

Amu's scream caught the attention of the rest of the tribe, who gazed at the bizarre spectacle, stupefied and dumbfounded. They were also gawking and pointing at Pim, some with awe but most with fear.

Deciding to do something quick before the serpent could move again, Pim tossed it several meters away and out of sight with a sweeping motion of his hand.

There was an awkward silence, while everyone tried to make sense of what had happened. Hoping to make things better, Pim knelt down and deftly swooped up the beautiful flowers which Amu had dropped when the serpent attacked her. He then offered them out to her with a smile.

Unfortunately, Pim's actions, however noble and heroic and well-meaning as they were, did not make such a good impression on Amu.

If it was possible, she actually looked more scared of _him_ than of the serpent.

Pim would later observe how human beings tended to believe the worst in people, and how sometimes people would rather look for convenient scapegoats rather than actual culprits to blame. It was this single and defining event in Pim's life which would teach him that important albeit painful lesson.

Scared and terrified of Pim now, they started yelling curses and epithets, throwing rocks clumps of dirt and rotten fruit at him. Unable to find a way to pacify them without using his powers again, Pim felt he had no choice but to flee, or at least for now before they would calm down and he could try and reason with them.

Pim was driven deep into the desert, where he braved the elements and creatures that lived in this dreary land. The searing sun shone overhead, the scorching sands burned beneath his feet, but Pim just kept walking on.

As the sun was now mercifully setting in the evening, a day or so later after the confrontation with his tribe, the air began to get cooler, and the ground became more bearable to walk on.

As night fell, Pim stumbled into a cave, where he could hear the dripping of water. Half-crazed, half-exhausted, he stumbled into the cave and greedily lapped up the water.

A moment later, however, he heard a growling sound.

The beast – whatever it was – roared and lunged at him. Summoning his magical powers once again, Pim threw the beast back against the opposite wall of the cave.

The beast was lightning-quick to respond, and as Pim was trying to move out of the way to flee back out of the cave, the beast lunged at him. It clawed at his chest, leaving some gashes which began to bleed, and Pim stumbled back against the jagged rocky wall, which glittered a strange kind of dark red.

Screaming out in pain, and fueled by his desire to live, Pim mindlessly lunged out at the beast, punching it in the jaw and knocking it senseless. As the beast recovered, Pim called upon his emotions, all of his fear, anger and hatred, and his desire to kill the beast in order to survive.

Just as he was focusing his energy, the beast regained its senses, and leaped, intending to strike the finishing blow to this human intruder.

With a mighty shout, Pim succeeded in his goal to survive. _May it be destroyed_, he thought to himself as he shouted in rage, an incantation reflecting the feelings stirring in his soul at that very moment.

There was a rushing sound, and a sickening green light shot out of his hand and at the beast, catching it in mid-air. A moment later, there was a lifeless thud as the beast landed on the cave floor in what must have been an uncomfortable position.

After a moment in which there was silence except for the continued steady dripping of water, Pim hoisted himself up to regain control of his body. He then noticed the small chunk of rock sticking out of his lower back. Grinding his teeth in pain, he twisted the rock and yanked it out.

It appeared that, somehow, the small rock had turned blood-red between when it made contact with Pim and when he yanked it out of his back.

He could already feel some relief, now that he had removed it, but as he looked at it, he felt like keeping it, for whatever reason. Maybe as a souvenir, perhaps?

After putting it away in a pouch which he carried with him, Pim carefully walked over to observe the beast. It did not move at all, and did not even so much as breathe. Its eyes just looked out ahead, but did not look at all.

The beast was dead.

Pim was alive.

As Pim reveled in jubilation at his triumph over the beast, he wandered out of the cave, wondering what other magical things he could do.

However, after he took a few steps outside from the cave entrance, Pim began to feel something else. He felt remorse, regret, and sorrow.

He had just taken another being's life. Not a human being's life, granted, but that thought alone made him feel even worse if he had killed another human being, _just like that_.

Deciding that he had been away for long enough, Pim decided to trek all the way back to where his tribe would most likely be by now.

And so, more than a day later, Pim returned to his tribe.

There was one problem, however: They were all dead. It looked like a massacre had taken place. Pim had looked around, going from body to body, trying to see if anyone had survived. Unfortunately, no one had survived. However, the strangest thing was how they had strange marks on their bodies, indicating that they had not been killed normally, as if they had been strangled or bludgeoned to death. Yet, as far as he could tell, it was not by magical means, and no one else in the tribe had magical powers like him.

And so, Pim carried out the sorrowful task of collecting the bodies and cremating them.

However, he had noticed that there was one person missing: _Amu_. Had she lived? Had she fled somewhere?

But deep down, maybe it was best this way, for Pim to not see her, let alone think of her, again.

As time went on, as seconds and minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years went by, Pim figured out that something had happened. Somehow, Pim had become _immortal_, living forever and unable to die.

Resigned to his fate, Pim simply lived on.

* * *

Egypt, c. 1250 B.C.

Pitmose had just heard the news.

The Hebrews had escaped from the Pharaoh and his armies on their Exodus back to their original land.

For thousands of years, the young man once known as Pim lived in a land which would later be known as Egypt or Misr, and had changed his name to "Pitmose" in order to blend in. However, since he now had some measure of immortality, he had to be careful to make sure that no one knew or even suspected that he was no mortal man. He did things like cut his hair or let his hair grow, or gain weight or lose weight… that kind of thing.

Lots of powerful men (and maybe the occasional women) known as _pharaohs_ would come and go, spending their entire reigns building and preparing their tombs for when they finally passed on, but Pim – sorry, _Pitmose_ – still lived on.

How ironic, that in a civilization whose culture placed special emphasis on immortality in life after death, Pitmose should be the only one who was achieving immortality by not dying at all.

As far as he could tell, the ancient Egyptians were the first great civilization ever to grace the world. Aside from what would later be considered their great achievement, the Great Pyramids, the Egyptians had also made significant developments in mathematics, science, astronomy, medicine, architecture and art.

But there was one particular aspect of this society which only a small portion of its denizens knew about: _Magic._

Pitmose knew how to make potions, transform objects, charm or enchant them, take care of (or defend oneself against) magical creatures, and countless other things.

But Pitmose also saw that there was a "light" side to magic and a "dark" side to it as well. Sometimes very powerful magic came at too high a price for any human to reasonably pay. There were also physical, mental, moral, ethical and spiritual concerns to take into consideration when it came to these kinds of matters.

He recalled how, a few millennia ago, he had taken that beast's life through what he might classify as Dark Magic… something about it which preyed upon a person's soul…

As the years and decades and centuries and millennia had passed, Pitmose had taken great care not to let his… _unique situation_ cloud his judgment. But he also made sure that he didn't get too close to anyone, either. If he was going to live beyond everyone he ever met, then there was no point in getting close to anyone.

The only people he ever "got close" to in any sense were his students whom he taught in the magical arts. Otherwise, his only companions were that blood-red stone which he carried with him as a souvenir., as well as one other special item: His magical staff. Made out of a big, solid length of oak, he put into its core a phoenix feather, a dragon heartstring and a unicorn hair. And he had also long since figured out how he could do great and amazing things by having different incantations to command his staff to carry out different spells.

He could also never afford to leave behind any record of his extensive magical knowledge, which went beyond several human lifetimes. Whatever he wrote on papyrus for his own knowledge, he would destroy later.

And from lifetime to lifetime, Pitmose would move on, continuing to teach magic but staying out of history's way.

* * *

Greece, c. 403 B.C.

Pymos, as he was now known in this part of the world, now lived in a remote area in the hills of Greece.

Throughout the past several centuries, Pymos watched and observed as Greece came out of its Dark Age and began to flourish into a civilization that could possibly rival even Egypt in the older days. Over time, the Greeks had learned to write with an alphabet, started their special Olympic games, developed theatre, created the _polis_ (or city-state)… but perhaps the most important achievement of all was the creation of a new system of government: _Democracy._

Derived from their words which meant "rule by the people," the Greeks decided to try a system in which they were not ruled by monarchs or wealthy people, but by _themselves_.

Well, this should make for a very interesting era, Pymos privately mused.

And in the meantime, Pymos simply continued his secretive teachings to young wizards and witches. And yet at the same time, Pymos was also teaching himself; he was constantly making new discoveries in the field of magic, as well as studying new inventions which the Greeks were making and seeing how he could magically improve upon them.

However, Pymos hadn't always stayed in Greece after leaving Egypt. While Greece was in its Dark Age, he had wandered around the European continent for years, from the Ural Mountains which divided it from Asia in the east to the Iberian Peninsula in the west, encountered numerous and varying barbaric tribes along the way.

However, to the north above the region which would be later known as Gaul and later still as France, there were isles with rather unique local peoples. They built large circular structures out of enormous slabs of stone or lengths of wood, where rituals were carried out. It was known to the Greeks as Albion, but later on the Romans would know it as Britannia. Pymos decided that these not-so-distant isles could make for a rather convenient place to live in seclusion, should the occasion ever arise.

But in the meantime, Pymos would continue doing his magical research: Transfiguration, charms, potions, astronomy, divination, arithmancy, runes, magical plants and creatures, and so many other subjects… it was all good fun.

* * *

Greece, c. 306 B.C.

Pymos had arrived in Athens just in time to hear the news.

The mighty Alexander, whose empire spanned across the three continents of Europe, Asia and Africa, had died.

Even now, as his successors were declaring themselves to be king, Pymos still kept to himself, secretly disguising his immortality and his magical teachings.

In later times, Alexander would be known as Alexander the Great, and his empire and blending of cultures would be known as _Hellenistic_ (or "Greek-like," as opposed to the _Hellenic_ culture which existed before that), although Pymos didn't know any of that just then. However, he did sense that he was now living in the beginning of a very interesting time period.

He would look forward to adding all these new discoveries to his own "vault of knowledge" as he called it, even though it may not have been a vault in the literal sense of the word.

But soon enough, Pymos would begin construction of his own personal vault or sanctuary of sorts somewhere in Albion. Who knew, maybe he could build his own little permanent home there…

* * *

Rome, 44 B.C.

Pimus never ceased to marvel at how he was living through history, remembering how he could remember just where he was and what he was doing whenever he heard the news of some monumental, world-shaking event.

Julius Caesar, who had been appointed dictator for life earlier in the year, had just been assassinated on the Ides of March.

Pimus just knew that, whatever happened next, there would be tough times ahead.

But even then, he couldn't allow the chaos to undo some of the work he was doing. He was also discretely contributing to creating one of the first-ever magical schools in the known world.

The wizards in society were now also creating their own official albeit secret governments and societies, separate from and yet hidden in the mundane, non-magical worlds. These things might have come to pass in the old Hellenic and Hellenistic societies, had non-magical political events not interfered in that respect.

And yet, whenever he could, Pimus also traveled to Britannia to work on his own private sanctuary. A place where he could remain secluded from the rest of the world, the world which he was trying to live in but not get noticed too much in.

In the meantime, Pimus continued to study his Latin. It sounded like a beautiful, interesting language to use for magical spells, or at least in his honest opinion.

* * *

Gaul, 476 A.D.

It finally happened: The world had ended.

Or, at least, one civilization in the world ended.

Rome had existed one way or another, for more than a thousand years: First as a kingdom, then as a republic, and then as an empire. But now, it all ended.

The German commander Odoacer managed to depose the final western emperor, the boy Romulus Augustulus.

The Roman Empire might have managed to buy itself a little more time buy accepting this relatively new religion known as Christianity which was sweeping through the empire, but even that couldn't stop it from breaking up and finally collapsing.

With the end of the Roman Republic, the civilization had merely changed into the Roman Empire, even though it had indeed been a turbulent transition for Roman civilization. But this…

Well, at least Pimus had an escape route.

On his belt, he wore many different special kinds of items: Some of them were potions, others were devices and other objects.

Taking out a special potion which he had been working on lately, Pimus opened it, drank it down, and waited a moment to let the potion work. During that moment of waiting, he took out a special type of clothing which he himself had invented – he called it an "Invisibility Cloak" – and quickly put it on, completely concealing himself. As he felt his special potion take effect, he ran at twice the top speed which even the fastest athlete could run at. Anyone who might have saw a trail of dust being kicked up or some whooshing sound would have just thought it was the wind or some kind of wild animal.

Once he got to the shoreline in northern Gaul, Pimus quickly took out and magically activated his special "invisible boat" by restoring it to its proper size. Unseen and speedy, he would be back in Britannia by dawn.

It was perfectly visible now, but once it was back to its functional size, and carrying its passenger aboard, it would render both itself and its passenger invisible, and take off.

As Pimus traveled across the channel between Gaul and Britannia on his invisible boat, the only tell-tale sign of their existence along the way was the small path left behind them in the water.

Hours later, just as the sun's first rays crept over the horizon in the east, the boat gently came ashore in lower Britannia. Discretely looking around, he then shrunk his invisible boat back to its smaller size, and took out another one of his special speed-increasing potions to drink down and continue the rest of the way to his own personal sanctuary at a rapid pace. Hours later, he arrived at his sanctuary, magically hidden in a mountain range far to the north, in the land of the Ordovices, a discrete distance from the druidic stronghold of Ynys Mons.

Pimus' personal sanctuary was hardly anything grand. It was only two levels tall, and would hardly even compare with a Roman villa. But underneath the structure itself was a spacious cellar, where Pimus could safely perform his magical experiments and research, and safely store whatever knowledge and possessions which he owned.

However, in this uncertain and brave new world, Pimus didn't know what to expect. While he had lived through millennia and had seen and remembered many things from the past, he could by no means predict the future. In fact, he did not even hold much faith in divination or any other means to predict the future.

Still, either way, at least this gave him in time to… _renovate_ his sanctuary a little.

* * *

Somewhere in the British Isles, 500 A.D.

It had taken a few years, but he finally completed his project.

Pim (as he now called himself once again, having given up changing his name to suit the dominant civilization of the day) had magically transformed his "house" into a tower, at least a dozen levels tall. At the very top level were his living quarters, while everywhere in between the top and the ground level, where various laboratories and libraries were situated. There was a small courtyard and garden behind what he considered to be the "back" of the tower, in which he grew plants and trees, and raised whatever creatures he felt like raising at the moment, be they magical or mundane.

Pim would have contributed more to the magical society and development in this new world, but everything was still in disarray from Rome's fall as Britannia entered what would be later known as the Dark Ages. And so, Pim now just kept to himself, continuing his life and work in his tower.

But one day, he felt like getting out and about, instead of being cooped up in his sanctuary, no matter how wonderful it was.

Taking his staff and usual possessions which he typically carried with him, he used magic to transport himself almost instantly across the British Isles to a relatively large settlement approximately fifty-five miles away from the southern coast, or "teleported" as he called it (a method which wizards in later times would refine and call Apparition).

The settlement of Londinium (which would be known later on as London after several centuries and being renamed a few times) was largely abandoned after the fall of the Roman Empire, but while the mundane, non-magical folk (now being called "Muggles" or something like that) were more than happy to move in, the wizards were keeping their secret places hidden using those special spells while Pim had discretely helped develop centuries before.

Today, everyone was out hawking their goods, trying to convince passers-by to buy them, as usual. Pim simply walked about, taking in the atmosphere.

But that would all change soon enough…

Without warning, an increasingly thick fog rolled through the street, confusing and alarming everyone present. After all, it was a sunny day without only a few small clouds in the sky. Pim personally had a bad feeling about this…

Suddenly, a female voice shrieked out, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Everyone screamed and ran or ducked, and there was a green light and a rushing sound, going straight for Pim. He just narrowly jumped out of the way as it blasted a small crater out of the ground near his foot.

But what surprised him the most was how it reminded him of something he had done before himself, where he had killed that beast millennia ago…

Pime had learned many languages throughout his astoundingly long life. He had learned Egyptian, Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and several other important languages which were used around the Mediterranean Sea. The recognized the language as one similar to Hebrew known as Aramaic, and the words _"avada kedavra"_ meant "may it be destroyed" (which he could also recognize from its Hebrew analog _"abra kedabra"_).

_What in the world?_ he thought dazedly.

As the fog cleared, a cloaked and hooded figure sauntered forward.

_"What's the matter, Pim? Don't know what to do?"_

What nearly caused Pim to fall over right then and there was how this new person addressed him by his original name in his native language.

But how was that possible? His native language died out millennia ago, about the same time as when Egypt first became a civilization, and there could be no one left alive who could possibly know his original name.

And yet that voice sounded eerily familiar…

_"Who are you?"_ he asked, remembering how to speak his native language even after all this time.

_"You don't recognize me?"_ the person said tantalizingly.

_"No,"_ he said flatly.

_"I'm insulted, Pim. But if you need a reminder of who I am… then why don't I just show you who I am?"_

And with that, the person slowly removed her hood.

The shock which Pim felt upon seeing that face again was like nothing which he had felt before.

_"Amu,"_ he breathed, completed stupefied.

Pim remembered her lovely dark features, and it looked as though she had not aged a day since that one fateful day when she drove him away and she last saw her. But now there was also a sort of dark gleam in her eyes, one which did not put his mind at ease.

_"It's been quite a while, hasn't it, Pim?"_ she said with a laugh. _"More than five thousand years!"_

_"How?"_ he asked to no one in particular.

_"Remember when you killed that beast in the cave? And you got that rock stuck in your side?"_

Pim slowly nodded, although he wondered how she could have possibly known about that.

_"I saw the whole thing happen. I bet you didn't realize that with your magic touch, about when you killed the beast with the predecessor to the Killing Curse, you somehow changed the stone so that it became a magical object which could grant somebody immortality. The change in color, to its blood-red hue, was an indicator of this change."_

Pim tried to come to terms with this startling revelation. So the blood-red stone which he had been carrying with him this whole time was the reason why he was immortal? If he had known that, he would have simply thrown away the stone, and let himself die as it was natural to do.

_"But I'm sure you didn't realize how there was a piece of the stone left in your back, and by having the stone itself in your body, near your vital organs, it not only gave you immortality, but it also gave you incredible healing powers. I bet you didn't notice it because it was a part of you, and you never detected it inside your own body. The wound most likely healed over it."_

Pim continued to listen to Amu, hiding his shock all the while. He subconsciously moved to run his hand over his back, but stopped himself from doing so, keeping his attention focused on the matter at hand.

_"How did you see what had happened with the beast in the cave? You were with the others after they drove me out."_

Here Amu's face darkened, as if her natural beauty had fled from her even though her face had not changed, physically or magically.

_"You were not the only one with latent magical powers, just waiting to become active. Barely an hour after we all drove you out into the desert, something happened to me. My own magical powers were manifesting. But then my magic went crazy… lights and colors flashed everywhere, among other things happening… I couldn't control it. The rest of the tribe, who had acted in my defense just an hour before, now turned on me as well, just like they turned on you. I tried to reason with them, but to no avail. But then they tried to kill me…"_

Here, Amu's face became truly sinister.

_"I killed them. I killed them all."_

Pim's eyes widened. So _that_ was why they were all dead when he had returned…

But then he also realized something else. When one magical person saved the life of another, a bond was formed between them, known as a life debt. However, Pim had also seen incidents where ugly things happened when an ungrateful person tried to deny the life debt or show ingratitude to the person which it was owed…

_"Why did you do it, Amu?"_ he asked hoarsely. _"What could you have possibly gained from killing them all?"_

_"It's the principle of the matter, Pim,"_ she said as though that explained and justified everything. _"They should have known better than to do that to me and treat me with such disrespect. But I also profited from their deaths, making me more powerful…_

_"You see, Pim,"_ she continued, _"We witches and wizards are more powerful and overall better than mere mundane people. We don't deserve to be treated that way. We should be the ones in charge of the world, not hiding ourselves to protect their own ignorance of people, beings and things which they cannot see or otherwise sense!_

_"However… in the five thousand years or so since we last met, I've taken the time to think about things, Pim. I admit maybe I was ungrateful to you when you saved my life that day. Besides, not only did you save my life, but you also helped bring forth my latent magical powers._

_"Why don't you come with me, Pim. We could be together forever. We could rule the entire world! While you've mainly stayed in this region of the world, Pim, I've explored as much of this world as I could, from country to country, from continent to continent… and believe me, Pim, it would be worth the effort, and beyond that!"_

Pim was dazed by everything which Amu was claiming and implying. She was beyond reason… she was insane!

_"You show me such ingratitude… you kill the rest of our tribe… you propose that we take over the entire world for ourselves… and you ask me to be with you?"_ he asked her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

_"We could give it another chance, Pim,"_ she told him, appearing to be completely oblivious to his revulsion. Her tempting smile could have charmed even a most hard-hearted person.

Pim took a deep breath, and prepared himself for her reaction to what he was about to say.

_"I cannot be with you, whoever you are… for the Amu which I knew lived a very long time ago, and you are not her."_

Within an instant, her tempting smile melted away in place of a very stone-hard face.

_"Very well, Pim."_ (Here she spat out his name like it was an ugly curse.) _"If you do not wish to live with me… then you can die before me!"_

And with those words shouted, she launched her attack.

The two of them would battle for less than twelve minutes, but the intensity of that battle would be something which neither combatant would forget. It would also be fortunate for the both of them, seeing as there were practically no Muggles around and all the witches and wizards who had been watching this strange display at first had now fled for their own lives.

Both of them began launching impressive magical tricks at each other (which also caused some considerable damage to the surrounding buildings on the street), but that quickly got to a point where they would instead simply counter each other's spells. After that, it quickly became a duel where they battled with their magical staffs, trying to get some magical spells in edgewise whenever they could.

Twelve minutes after their duel had started, both of them were pressing against the other with their staffs, both of them locked in place, neither of them gaining or surrendering an inch of ground.

_"What's the matter, Pim?"_ Amu taunted him. _"Unable to win? Are you simply that weak to beat me?"_

Righteous fury boiled up inside of Pim, anger at her unbelievable gall and audacity for everything which she had done, to him, their long-dead tribe, and who knew how many other people she had come across over the millennia.

His desire to show her up and set her straight finally manifested itself, and so his own staff charged up with incredible magical energy, from which fire snaked out and found Amu's magical staff; promptly burning it to ashes. She instantly dropped it as her own hands nearly caught on fire, and she screamed as she quickly dropped to her knees and pounded her hands against the moist ground, which was still damp from the mist which she had summoned for her entrance.

Quickly seizing his chance, Pim swung around with all his might and struck her in the back of the head with his staff; the loud impacting sound even made him wince a little.

Convinced that she was knocked unconscious, Pim then turned his attention to the rest of the street. Signs of their duel were evident practically everywhere he looked; one building was on fire, another was partially collapsed… and were a bunch of ferrets streaming out of that building over there?

Turning away from his fallen opponent, Pim went about casting spells from where he stood, undoing all the damage which was caused from their battle.

However, Amu was not as incapacitated as she appeared to be…

She had feigned unconsciousness, but also used some magic to help put on a convincing act. No sooner than had Pim cast the final spell to undo all the final damage which was caused then did she strike.

Pim felt an excruciating pain in his lower back, reminding him of how he accidentally got a chunk of that rock embedded into his back in the beast's cave. However, as it was too late, he quickly deduced what was happening.

Behind him, Amu was stabbing into his back with a dagger, using her magic to guide her towards the small stone still stuck in Pim's lower back. A moment later, she completed her sinister surgery and yanked it out.

Pim screamed and dropped to his knees in pain, using his staff to support himself upright. Twisting around to peer over his shoulder, she saw Amu wickedly grinning, victorious.

_"Remember this, Pim?"_ she asked in her honey-sweet yet malicious voice, holding out the small, pebble-sized blood-red stone in her hand. Using some of her innate magical power which she could still manifest without a staff or some other magical object, she crushed it to dust in her hand, and let the blacked particles of dust fall out of her hand to the ground for both of them to see.

Pim felt his strength weakening, and his anger rising…

_"You really should have accepted my offer, Pim,"_ she said with mock remorse. _"We could have been the rulers of this world, and we could have been together forever…"_

_"You fail to realize, Amu,"_ he ground out, _"that some things are simply not worth it."_

_"Aw, such wise words from a dying fool,"_ she taunted him. _"But while we're at it… do you have any last words, Pim?"_

_"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,"_ he said, suddenly smirking. Amu frowned; what could he possibly be thinking at this very moment?

_"Farewell."_

And in a flash with surprising speed, Pim whipped his hand out of a pouch on his belt, clutching his larger blood-red immortality-granting stone as a souvenir. Using his own magic, he charged it with the special kind of power needed to reverse its effect, so instead of granting life, it would take life away. As it glowed a bright white light, he yelled at flung it straight at her.

Amu was so transfixed by this unexpected move that she did not even think of trying to leap out of the way until it was too late. She screamed a horrific, hair-raising scream as this small bright light made contact with her. The next instant, she exploded in a blast of light, color and sound.

A moment later, Pim uneasily got to his feet and inspected the spot where Amu had previously stood. There was no physical trace of her left, not even a speck of flesh, a drop of blood, or a fragment of bone; he had completely obliterated her physical body. He thought he might have seen some smoky grey wisps dissolving into the air, but a second look told him that they were not there.

_Perhaps I should have just stayed home today,_ he mused as he tenderly reached around to feel the spot where she had stabbed him to extract the small stone which was embedded in his lower back all this time. It was as bad as he feared: He was mortally wounded.

Summoning all the energy he could, he clutched his staff and teleported back to his tower.

As he staggered about his magical abode, he suddenly thought about something: _What if Amu was still alive somehow?_ After all, she had faked her death once before, by simply disappearing after massacring the entire tribe thousands of years ago…

However, Pim created this "immortality stone" or whatever it was called quite by accident, and he didn't have the knowledge, nor the time to try and create a new one.

If only there was some way to preserve himself somehow without corrupting his being as though he were using dark magic…

But a moment later, Pim had an idea.

The magical wards which helped to protect this tower were what he considered to be revolutionary, where the tower itself had a kind of sentience or intelligence to itself, to help distinguish friend from foe, or to help ward off any potential threats to the tower or any of its occupants. Perhaps he could find a way to keep his soul with the tower itself…?

Yes. Yes, he could do that.

Taking one last look around and putting everything in order, Pim staggered down to the cellar which made up the underground level, and used his magic to open up a sort of trapdoor near one of the walls. As he descended into this lower compartment, it shut behind him.

This was a big, circular room, about ten feet high and about fifty feet across in diameter. Pim staggered down a staircase cut out of the circular inner wall, and walked with the aid of his staff towards the center of the room. There was a sort of bier or altar, one which he designed to lie on and heal himself, should something ever happened to his unexplainable ability to live immortally and heal quickly.

At the head of the bier was a circular hole in the floor, which was designed for his staff to be inserted into. Gazing reverently at his magical yet inanimate and non-living companion, which he had always taken care of and improved over the years whenever he could, Pim raised it up and drove it down into the hole, firmly securing it in place.

As his life and his physical strength now departed from him even faster than before, Pim steadied himself and walked around to the edge of the bier. The next moment, he hoisted himself up onto it, and laid himself onto it. Faint small lights and panels on the top and side lit up, indicating he was now magically connected to the bier, his staff, and the rest of this room which made up the very foundations of the entire castle. Laying on his back and looking up to the ceiling before closing his eyes, he gave one last magical command, in his mind: _Let me become one with this tower in spirit._

And with that, Pim died.

A few moments later, however, those faint small lights and panels lit up again, as did angular, vein-like lines which ran from the bier and staff across the floor and up the walls and ceiling. Those lights became even brighter as they ran up to the rest of the tower, connecting Pim's body and spirit to the rest of his tower and property.

And suddenly, Pim was alive again… in a sense.

His soul was now alive, aware and active again, and he felt completely new sensations as he became like a part of the tower. It was unlike anything he had felt before… and anything he could ever truly describe.

However, he could not move his physical form or leave this area to go anywhere else. If he were to stay active this entire time in this way, he would have nothing to do but utilize the possessions which he already owned, for an indeterminate amount of time.

Besides, if there was anything which humans feared more than death or pain, it was boredom.

Sooner or later, Pim would need someone to come along and help him, to make absolutely sure of Amu's defeat and how she was no longer a threat to this world or anyone in it. But he could not just let _anyone_ with magical abilities access his tower or anything inside of it. So what could he do?

He could find a way to let the tower know when to let someone with the desirable qualities and attributes come along… a person who might be worthy enough to enter there, and maybe even dwell there if that person needed to do so.

Being a sentient and intelligent being in itself, even without his soul merged with it through that special chamber at its very foundations, the tower understood. One of the great things about magic was how it could understand and comprehend things in ways which transcended even normal human logic and emotion.

After he gave some last commands for the tower to carry out as it preserved itself for its indeterminate long wait for the right person to come along, Pim gave one last special command for his own body and soul.

A few moments later, some kind of crystal-like substance formed on the bier around the edge of his body, and grew over him, completely encasing his body. It had an ice-like quality to it, even though it was not cold, and if one were to look at it, one would have a hard time making out Pim's features through the blurry material and its crystalline pattern.

It was not just out of fear of boredom, but out of concern for conserving magic, that Pim had both himself and the tower go into a deep sleep, waiting for the right time.

And so the tower and everything inside it became hidden from the rest of the world, even from the magical world which was concealed within the non-magical world.

However, one family of wizards which lived not too far from the tower had noticed this solitary wizard constantly coming and going from something there, one which they themselves could not find no matter how hard albeit discretely they looked. All they could learn about this wizard who kept to himself was that his name was "Pim." And sometimes, every several days or nights, this family of wizards thought they could see some enormous, tall object like a tower, but every time they tried to get a second glance, it was not there anymore.

They tried to tell other people about their suspicions, but with how boring and vague their theories and descriptions were, it never caught on as a myth or fable or any kind of story which would be passed down through the years and the generations. So, this family mainly kept to themselves whenever they came up with some fantastic ideas about what they called "The Tower of Pim."

And so, the days passed, which turned into weeks, months, years… and the world went on. Civilizations, cultures and ways of life rose and fell, new ones came along while old ones either died out or somehow managed to survive with varying degrees of change and adaptation.

And for that entire time, Pim and his tower lay dormant, hidden and invisible to the rest of the world. It was situated in what was known as Snowdonia, in the mountainous region of northwest Wales.

However, it would be nearly fifteen hundred years before someone worthy of Pim's acceptance finally came along and gained access to his beloved tower.

His name was Harry Potter.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:Well, how's that for a start?

**Regarding this part's title… well, it is the prologue, and it deals with Pim's sojourns through ancient history. (Although, admittedly, the _Justice League Unlimited_ episode "Ancient History" did come to mind as I was writing this.)**

Now, the first thing you're wondering about is probably something like this… _Where did the author get such a name for a fic like "Tower of Pime"?_ The truth is, I got it from no real source in particular. Don't ask me specifically how, because my mind can sometimes work in strange ways, jumping around a lot from one idea to the next. However, the word "prime" was an influence, and the word means, among many things, "first" (from the Latin _primus_). It also sounds like the word "pie," or even the Greek letter **Π** (Pi). I also showed how, over time, Pim changed his name slightly and accordingly: First Pim, then Pitmose (ancient Egyptian), then Pymos (ancient Greek), then Pimus (ancient Latin), and finally Pim again.

UPDATE, 8/12/2012: Well, it's no longer "Harry Potter and the Tower of Pime" but "Harry Potter and the Eternal Guardian", for reasons which will become apparent later on...

Also, as for the name of that young woman… "Amu" sounded Egyptian enough, but I got it from the Latin words _amor_ (the noun meaning "love") and _amare_ (the verb meaning "to love"). For example, _amo_ literally means "I love." Also, _aku_ just happens to be the Japanese word for "evil" (and was also the name of the villain from that animated series _Samurai Jack_).

Now, as for the other big question… _How will this be AU to the entire HP saga?_ The answer is that Harry manages to run away from the Dursleys at least a year before his eleventh birthday, and accidentally finds the Tower of Pim. He lives and learns there, and manages to overcome his years of living with the Dursleys, at least somewhat. The result is a somewhat different Harry Potter.

I know lots of people dislike things about the canon books in that Harry has to live with the Dursleys outside of Hogwarts, he doesn't seem to learn enough to prepare him for his destiny against Voldemort, etc. In this, I plan to tackle those issues without making Harry a sort of perfect, unbeatable superhero or something like that. I'm not saying that J.K. Rowling herself definitely went wrong somewhere with writing her fantasy saga, because it's not my place to say. But I can try to write this fanfic, and see how different some things can be.

After the end of the last Ice Age, northern Africa was quite lush and fertile, but that slowly gave way to what we know as the Sahara Desert. My beta-reader and Brit-picker, **Coulsdon**** Eagle**, told me about the Ordovices tribe and the druidic stronghold of Ynys Mons. As for the rest of the Prologue, with recorded history from ancient Egypt to the Roman Empire, I got all of that from one of my college textbooks, the Second Edition of _The Making of the West: Peoples and Cultures, Volume A_ (written by Lynn Hunt, Thomas R. Martin, Barbara H. Rosenwein, R. Po-chia Hsia, and Bonnie G. Smith).

Also, I'm sorry I skipped the battle scene, like with what kinds of spells they used, but I just couldn't think of anything impressive enough. Maybe someday, I'll write it… _(Also, I made a couple of nods to the number twelve, ferrets, and a few other things, as JKR herself has this habit of doing.)_

Simply put, I want to make this an AU of the ENTIRE _Harry Potter_ saga.

Am I ambitious? Yes. Am I insane? Probably. Am I planning to have fun with this? Definitely.

Oh, and I ask you, the reader, for one favor in return for this start to a big fic… _please review, as your feedback will surely encourage me to write more, faster, and better._

**_–Quillian_  
(First posted: February 8, 2007)  
(Last edited: August 12, 2012)**


	2. THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**WARNING:** Minor character death, domestic violence, and both Harry- and Dursley-bashing. _You've been warned._

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter One, "The Boy Who Lived."**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE  
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN**

Mr. Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Petunia Dursley and their son Dudley Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Mr. Dursley worked at a well-paying company known as Grunnings, Mrs. Dursley kept a well-managed household, and young Dudley was an energetic, growing young boy who got everyone's attention.

If one were to look at the pictures on the mantel, one would see ten years' worth of time, measured by images of young Dudley getting progressively older in each picture (not to mention larger). The most recent picture had been taken just a month before, for Dudley's tenth birthday. And yet, none of them indicated that there just might be another boy living in the house.

Nine-year-old Harry Potter, who was roughly the same age as his cousin Dudley, was forced to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs while the second bedroom which he could have used as a normal bedroom was instead used as storage space for all of Dudley's old (and often broken) things which he didn't use anymore but didn't want to part with either.

Harry purposely never told anyone about his life with the Dursleys – not just because his Uncle Vernon threatened him if he ever told anyone, but also because he would simply be too embarrassed by it.

Aside from his relatives' abusive and negligent behavior towards him, there were also their personality traits and behaviors which Harry had observed, which he was pretty sure they would have had anyway even if he did not live with them. They were the petty type of people, scavenging for whatever attention they could get (hopefully of the positive variety), in order to make themselves feel powerful and more important. They were always concerned for their own survival and material wealth, but hardly for anything else.

Harry only felt truly safe in school, and even then, only to a certain extent. He was always careful to keep his distance from Dudley and his gang, whom everyone feared, even though they almost always went after Harry and only him. Whatever few kids felt sorry for Harry and would have helped him otherwise stayed away and kept silent (although personally, he couldn't blame them for wanting to do that). Harry would often seek refuge in the library, busy with a book which he always put back in its place rather than bring with him, especially to his "home," where anything could happen to it.

Also, while Harry did not have more intellectual or academic inclinations like a few of his other classmates, he sometimes threw himself into his studies, so at least then he would have something to do and something to think about, other than hide from and worry about his relatives or other tormentors in his life.

One thing which puzzled Harry was how he kept moving up a level each year like every student should, even though his grades were clearly marked to indicate that he was a poor student. But then he remembered one time when he was five or six years old and he brought home a better report card than Dudley's, and so his aunt and uncle yelled at him and punished him for essentially getting better grades than Dudley, even though that truly wasn't his fault. The next day, Mrs. Dursley came to the school to basically complain about it to the headmistress as though it was something to be fixed. About an hour and several arguments later, Aunt Petunia stormed out of the headmistress' office, while the headmistress herself looked both disgusted that she had to put up with Mrs. Dursley and relieved that it was finally over. And so from that day forward, Harry's report card always showed worse grades while Dudley's showed better grades. Harry had a shrewd feeling that the school's headmistress and teachers did this on purpose to protect him.

And so, one early spring morning, Harry lay on his back on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling of his "bedroom" as he contemplated his life and everything which was wrong with it.

He didn't waste his time and energy being angry about what was wrong with his life; he just accepted it for what it was. Besides, he had to reserve his energy for more important things, like being able to avoid trouble with his relatives.

Harry figured while he was up, he may as well get started on preparing the Dursleys' breakfast. After all, it was a Monday, and everyone wanted to be able to start off the week with the energy they needed.

_One of these days, I'll get out of here,_ Harry thought to himself hopefully. _One of these days._

* * *

Later that day, Harry came home from school, purposely taking a slower and longer route to avoid running into Dudley or his gang along the way.

However, as he walked up the front drive, he sensed that something was… _different_ today. Whatever it was, it did not put his mind at ease.

Suddenly, the door opened, and out walked a fourth Dursley.

It was Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon's sister.

Harry panicked. He didn't know that she was here!

"Boy!" she thundered, seeing him right away. "You're late!"

"Aunt Marge," he stuttered nervously. "I didn't know you were coming here today."

"Rubbish!" she scoffed. "Your loving aunt and uncle should have told you that I would be here today and for the rest of the week!"

"But… they didn't…" he stammered.

"LIES!" she boomed. "How dare you accuse them of not telling you!"

"But they didn't…" he repeated, almost as if begging her to believe him.

"Don't you dare lie to me, boy!" she yelled.

Harry didn't even bother trying to explain to her this time, as she had already made up her mind and it was wrong to confuse her with facts, even if they were true.

Suddenly, Aunt Petunia seemed to materialize, and pulled him into the house. "Get inside, boy!" she hissed. "Before the whole street hears the commotion you're causing!"

Harry could only stare at her as she yanked him inside. The commotion which _he_ was causing?

_Typical Dursley thinking,_ he mentally groused, _it's always someone else's fault, and never their own._

Actually, for the most part, human beings had the habit of blaming anyone or anything else other than themselves for their own problems… but in Harry's honest opinion, the Dursleys had it down to an art form.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon raged. "You have work to do! Now go out and do it!"

And with that, he simply threw Harry back out, right after Aunt Petunia dragged him back inside. Not wasting any time, Harry went to it, remembering the chores from earlier that morning when he had seen the list.

After finishing with washing the car, Dudley came out with candy and soda, and made obnoxiously loud noises as he consumed the food and added it to his ever-growing girth. He even made comments like "Mmm, this tastes _so_ good" or "Too bad the _freak_ can't have any because he has to work."

Harry wanted to retort that he didn't want or even like candy or soda (_The stuff's like poison, especially to Dudley,_ he thought to himself), but he figured, let Dudley think that he wanted some candy or soda or any kind of occasional treat which he had always been denied.

_One of these days, they'll get what's coming to them…_

Harry wasn't a vengeful person, but that didn't mean he would mind if Fate or Karma or whatever such force would come along one day and give the Dursleys the cosmic kick in the posterior which they so royally deserved.

It was his hopeful thoughts like these which had helped sustain him all these years, and they would help him get through the next week.

But what _no one_ would realize was that Harry's true talents and power would come through for him by the week's end.

* * *

Living with the Dursleys had always been bad enough, and it had always been worse whenever Aunt Marge visited, but it almost seemed as though all four Dursleys present were doing their absolute best to make Harry's life absolutely miserable this week.

The small, scrawny Potter boy would spend as much time at school as possible each day of that week, from the hour it opened to when all students had to leave. And once Hary got home, he was either being pushed away somewhere to do some chore or being summoned so he could be unfairly criticized.

Aunt Marge would also go out and buy expensive things for Dudley, both of them making a big scene of it in front of Harry in order to provoke him into being jealous; much to their anger and disappoint, Harry either pretended not to notice or just looked right back at them.

Harry simply refused to give them any kind of benefit in knowing that they were bothering him.

The only allies which Harry had on his side were time and patience. Soon enough, it was the last day of Aunt Marge's stay at Privet Drive. Harry was looking forward it, so things could become better in his life again… or at least less worse.

But soon enough, things escalated out of control.

It all started when Harry was doing his usual slave-like duty of cooking the food and setting it on the table for supper in the early evening. His enormous cousin just couldn't want to shovel down all that food which he really didn't need, and so he shoved Harry aside, completely unconcerned that Aunt Marge's bulldog ripper was right behind them.

Ripper immediately took offense at the accident. Snarling and baring his teeth, the nasty dog went after Harry, chasing him out of the house. The sun's last rays crept over the horizon as Harry thought fast and raced up the nearest tree he could get to, with Ripper right at his heels.

It was about an hour later, when it was cold and dark, when all four Dursleys finally came out to see what was going on. Dudley immediately broke down laughing, and within a minute, he was actually crying with real tears of mirth.

Aunt Marge patted her nephew on the shoulder, looking distinctly amused.

However, Aunt Petunia didn't look so amused. "Get down here now, boy!" she screeched. "You're making a scene in front of the entire neighborhood!"

Harry couldn't even spare the energy to be exasperated. _If anyone's making a scene, it's you and your rotten family!_ Honestly, where did some people get off? Sometimes they make a scene just by yelling at other people to not do so!

Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, while somewhat embarrassed by this spectacle going on, also decided to take the opportunity to humiliate Harry in front of the entire neighborhood to make his family look better in comparison.

"Not so fortunate now, are you, eh, you freak?" Vernon gleefully hollered up to his trapped nephew. "That's what you get for trying to harm Marge's dog!"

However, unbeknownst to young Potter or any of the four Dursleys, an innocent-looking tabby cat surveyed all this happening from under a bush. It narrowed its eyes and gave a small hiss in disgust before retreating, unseen.

A couple of minutes later, it was back at the house of the elderly Arabella Figg, who was actually a Squib. Coincidentally, she had already been living in the same neighborhood as the Dursleys well before Harry was left on their doorstep many years ago, and so when Dumbledore secretly sought her out to ask if she would volunteer to keep an eye on the Dursleys and their ward, she agreed.

Strider jumped through the open window and into the kitchen, accidentally bumping into a few of the other cats as he hastily made his way towards his mistress. He quickly muttered the Feline equivalents of "excuse me" and "pardon me" as he made his way past.

"Strider, you're back so soon?" Mrs. Figg said kindly as she stroked another one of Strider's fellow cats.

It mewed worriedly, and she was quick to notice this.

"What is it, Strider?" she asked, starting to get worried. She could not understand the language of cats, but she had found ways of communicating with them.

Narrowing his eyes, Strider bounded over to the refrigerator and angrily struck a picture of the Dursleys which was held in place by a magnet.

"They're bothering Harry, aren't they?" she asked, trembling. Deep down, Mrs. Figg really did love that sweet little boy, but unfortunately, she had to act rather mean towards him so that Mrs. Dursley wouldn't have any objections to leaving Harry with her.

Strider let out an angry hiss, summing up in the Feline language exactly what he thought of that horrible family.

Mrs. Figg nodded grimly. "Very well," she said. "I'll drive over… pretend to be an innocent driver just _happening_ to pass through…"

Meanwhile, back at the Dursley residence, Mr. Dursley continued his nasty verbal onslaught against the helpless Harry. He and the rest of his family thought that he was making themselves look better and that Potter boy look worse, but in fact, he had it all wrong.

For years now, the other people living on Privet Drive, and even on the nearby connected streets, had all generally feared and despised the Dursleys. They had taken note of how the Dursleys' spoiled son got all the nice new clothes and everything he wanted, while their nephew "that Potter boy" got nothing, not even sufficient new clothes. Dudley had also been a menace to all of the children in the neighborhood, along with his gang who only stuck with him because he had the "power" of being the meanest kid around. A few times, they had called the police to be summoned to Privet Drive to investigate strange on-goings which worried them about the Dursley's nephew which they knew practically nothing about.

In short, the Dursleys only helped garner more sympathy for Harry and made themselves look worse at the same time.

Strider now reappeared, and while Mrs. Figg was getting ready in her car, this dutiful cat was providing Harry with a means of some assistance. Strider yowled at Ripper in that so-called "language" which only non-human creatures seemed to understand with a string of insults.

Enraged, Ripper abandoned the tree and his quarry which was taking refuge in it, and instead went after the cat. Hoping that he was buying Harry enough time, Strider subtly used his natural cat magic to make a speedy escape.

Harry indeed managed to make it back down the tree to the ground, but he may not have made it down fast enough, because Ripper was back with a vengeance. Harry was just making a break for Mrs. Figg's house (he really didn't know who else he could turn to) when suddenly Ripper took him down from behind.

He could feel the dog clawing into his back through his thin, worn shirt even before he heard its vicious barks. He was knocked to the ground, and quickly tried to turn himself over so he was on his back and could push the dog off somehow. His face scrunched up at the dog's hot, smelly breath, and he did his best with his small, nine-year-old body to throw the big dog off of him. Trying a different tactic, Ripper sank his teeth into Harry's lower left arm, between his elbow and his hand.

Harry screamed in pain, looking for any possible way to try and get this nasty dog off of him. His pain was coupled with his fear, his anger, and his rage as the Dursleys practically cheered on the monster! He had to find a way to stop Ripper from harming him…

The Dursleys' neighbors, who were watching this horrifying and sickening spectacle, rushed over to their telephones to call the police and try to put an end to this.

They didn't see what happened next.

Before Harry knew what was even happening, a flash of red light burst from his right hand, throwing Ripper back in an arc from the spot where they were fighting to the middle of the street. Ripper gave a yelp of surprise and pain as he sailed through the air, and then howled with pain as he landed awkwardly on the cold, hard pavement.

And then Ripper was promptly hit by an oncoming car.

Mrs. Figg was rushing to Number Four as fast as she could without breaking the speed limit or causing an accident, but then she had been distracted by the flash of red light which was coming from the Dursleys' property. She was so distracted by this display of accidental underage magic from Harry that she slammed on the brakes a moment too late.

There was a very awkward moment of silence while everyone tried to comprehend what just happened. All four Dursleys were gaping in shock and horror, Harry was lying on his side as he cradled his injured arm, Mrs. Figg was slowly getting out of the car to see what had happened to the bulldog, and all the neighbors were looking out their windows again, wondering what they had just missed.

"I…" Harry began. "I don't know… what just happened…"

"Vernon, Petunia," Mrs. Figg spoke up, trying to distract their attention away from Harry. "I'm so sorry! I was just passing through, and then all of a sudden, this dog just fell in the road right in front of me! I don't know how it happened, honest…"

"Ripper?" Aunt Marge whispered, her lip trembling as she shakily walked over to where her dog lay motionless. "Here, boy…"

But as she bent down to take a look, she soon realized one thing…

"HE'S DEAD!" she wailed. "MY POOR BABY IS DEAD!"

"Please," Harry gasped, gritting his teeth from the pain. "I didn't mean to…"

But with an almighty roar of anger, Uncle Vernon yanked Harry up by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back inside. Through the pain, Harry thought about what just happened to Ripper… he honestly didn't mean to kill Ripper, let alone harm him at all… but that dog _was attacking him_…

"YOU HIDEOUS FREAK!" Uncle Vernon screamed at the top of his lungs. "YOU _MURDERER!_"

"Please, Uncle Vernon," Harry whimpered, instinctively shielding himself, "I didn't mean to do anything to him…"

But Mr. Dursley didn't care, because he needed to yell at his brat of a nephew, and so he yelled so loudly that Harry couldn't even make out the words, and they all just blurred together. What seemed liked an hour or so later, when it was really just over a minute, Dudley came barging in.

"Dad told me to watch you, freak!" he shouted. "You're going to get it now for killing Aunt Marge's dog!" he then added with malicious glee, in both his voice and on his face. Dudley didn't really care about his aunt's dog, but if it helped get the freak in trouble, then so much the better.

Harry made to move to the kitchen sink to clean himself and hopefully treat his wound, but Dudley stopped him, denying him the right to be treated for his injuries.

"You think that's bad, you freak?" Dudley laughed maliciously. "Try this, freak!" And with that, he took Harry's injured arm and viciously twisted it.

Harry cried in pain while Dudley's evil laughter rang in his ears. However, his pain was also steadily turning into anger.

"What are you going to do now, freak?" Dudley laughed, taking Harry by the arm and swinging him so that he flew across the room. Harry just barely managed to stop himself from being thrown into the wall by using his other arm.

Harry now had his back against the wall as Dudley had him trapped. As he could see no other way out of this, Harry prepared himself for the worst.

"You're so weak, freak!" Dudley chortled, especially after his own rhyme. "Why don't you hit me, freak?" he taunted Harry. "WHY DON'T YOU HIT ME, FREAK? GO ON! HIT ME!"

Something within Harry completely snapped at that point, and so he punched Dudley as hard as he could, square in the face.

What neither of them suspected, however, was that Harry could apparently punch _very_ hard.

With a single blow which stupefied both of them, Harry punched Dudley in the face, resulting in a sickening sound. Dudley staggered back against the opposite wall from the force of the blow, and actually managed to leave an indentation in the wall from where he fell back into it.

There was an awful silence while Dudley slowly raised his hand to his nose, and then saw the blood on his fingertips from his now-bleeding nose.

Tears – not crocodile tears, but actual tears – welled up in Dudley's eyes as the ramifications of what just happened hit him as a sort of aftershock.

"You hit me," he whispered, sounding as though he would break down crying at any moment.

"Dudley," Harry stammered, hoping to say something which would placate his cousin. But whatever he was going to say, Dudley would never know, as a woman's scream of horror and a man's scream of outrage echoed throughout the house.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stood on the threshold, with her getting progressively whiter from shock by the second and with him getting progressively redder from anger at the same rate.

With a scream of pure anger and primal rage which sounded almost psychotic, Mr. Dursley charged at his nephew like a red-faced bull, intent on causing the boy as much bodily harm as possible for what he had done. For what he did tonight, what he did all these years, and just for being born at all. To blazes with the repercussions, he would make the brat pay!

Harry was quicker, however. With his heart pounding madly in his chest, he just narrowly avoided Uncle Vernon's massive bulk, meandered around Aunt Petunia's slender form as she tried to catch him, and burst out the back door.

_Please,_ he begged to whatever higher powers might have been listening to him at that moment, _I'm sorry for everything that's happened, I really am! I'll do whatever you want! Just get me out of here!_

_"Please, just get me out of here!"_ Harry cried out loud.

He was just about to jump into the bushes separating the Dursleys' property from the next one over when suddenly, a bright white light the size of a firefly made contact with him.

Harry Potter completely disappeared from Privet Drive, and indeed Little Whinging, in a flash of light.

* * *

Pim jolted out of his magical slumber. _How long have I been asleep?_ He dimly wondered to himself. _Then again… what woke me up in the first place?_

The tower's "memory" as he called it replayed the strange magical sensations which it had been commanded to detect before Pim went to sleep centuries ago.

Pim took a moment to take into account just how long he had slumbered for. _Fifteen hundred years,_ he mused. _Doesn't feel like it's been a day more than fourteen hundred years,_ he privately joked to himself.

Now turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he went over the information which the tower had magically recorded. Through the tower's memory, he could view what had happened through space and time. He saw a young boy with messy black hair, bright green eyes, and the scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, who wore strange devices in front of his eyes, which held transparent lenses…

_Wait a minute._ Pim went through that again. That scar…

Something told him that it was no ordinary scar caused by something separate from magic. He would look into that later.

This boy was forced to act like a slave, a veritable house elf, to his horrible Muggle relatives. Currently, a fourth Muggle was visiting, and brought along this nasty dog which clearly hated the boy. Pim watched the accident unfold…

Pim was aghast at how things played out (he was now watching things as they happened through real-time magic). He couldn't blame this young boy for defending himself, even if he did accidentally use uncontrolled magic to contribute to the dog's demise (being struck down by an oncoming vehicle).

When he repulsed the dog like that… that was what must have been what triggered the tower to bring Pim out of his slumber. However, it wasn't over yet…

He watched as this boy's abhorrent and obscenely obese cousin bullied and provoked the boy into striking back after finally wearing out his incredibly long supply of patience. Having a shrewd feeling where this was going, Pim conjured up a small bright light and sent it out from the tower and to this boy's residence.

Pim's timing could not have been better, for now the boy's aunt and uncle were now out of their minds with fear and rage, and were now willing to do anything to make the boy truly suffer.

Through the magic which allowed Pim to see and hear what was going on, he could witness the boy's cry for help.

And just in time, the bright white light made contact with the boy, magically transporting him across the country to the tower itself.

As the magical sensors indicated that the young wizard was now within the tower itself, Pim activated one of his servants.

A marble statue of a young woman in modest robes walked into the room, making very light footfalls, considering its weight. _"Galatea,"_ he magically spoke to the nonliving servant, _"the boy who has just arrived here has been injured. Please tend to his injuries."_

Galatea smiled and nodded, immediately hurrying downstairs to tend to the scared and injured young boy.

However, he was now out of his mind with grief and worry. He was already scared when he suddenly found himself in this strange new place where he had never been before; now, he was trying to flee.

No one would have guessed it, but Galatea was surprisingly fast (another advantage of being magical). Where the boy's malicious aunt and uncle failed, she succeeded, but she was so gentle for her hard marble form that he was unhurt.

"No… please," he whimpered, now crying freely.

_"I'll take care of this, Galatea,"_ Pim privately spoke to her.

_"Do not fear, young one,"_ said a voice which made Harry jolt in surprise and fear.

"Who are you?" Harry stammered. He wasn't sure if he actually _heard_ it with his ears… it was more as though it he could sense it from within his own _mind_…

_"I am the master of this tower,"_ Pim told him. He hated having to lie, or at least not tell the whole truth, buy the boy was now out of his mind with worry, and now was not the time for detailed explanations. _"I managed to rescue you and bring you here through my magic."_

_"Magic?"_ Harry repeated, stupefied. "But… there's no such thing as magic…"

_"But if it does not exist, then how did you manage to fend off that dog or the other boy? Then how did I manage to transport you here within mere seconds?"_ Pim asked.

"My… my relatives…"

_"They are of no concern, young one. They will not harm you here… they do not even know where 'here' is,"_ Pim reassured him. _And they never will do so again, if I have anything to do with it,_ he forcefully added in private.

Pim then asked, _"What is your name?"_

"Harry, sir," the boy stammered. "Harry Potter."

_"And my name is Pim,"_ the voice responded cordially. _"You must rest, Harry. You are gravely injured. We need to heal your wounds."_

"No, please," Harry begged. "I just want to go… please, I don't want to get in your way…"

_"Everything will be fine, Harry. Please, trust us."_ Harry could feel his eyelids getting heavy. _"Sleep now. When you wake up, you will feel much better."_

"No," Harry tried to protest, but it came out muffled by a yawn. "I don't want… to… sleep…"

And with that, Harry knew no more.

After Harry fell asleep with what Pim called a "mental suggestion" (hardly anything like the Imperius Curse or other such spells), Galatea gently swept him up and carried him to one of the "guest rooms." The truth was that they were more like spare rooms to serve as sleeping areas, since Pim never really counted on having guests. At this moment, Pim was glad that he had the foresight to add such quarters centuries ago.

As Harry was laid out on a spare bed, Pim noticed something for the first time.

_He has a piece of Dark magic in him. What's more, it's linked to that scar on his forehead._

However, Pim knew that this did not automatically make Harry evil or even potentially evil. But even still, the circumstances were baffling, to say the least, not to mention unprecedented. Even with many millennia of magical experience, he could not determine how this came to be.

_He will have to take great care,_ Pim thought to himself. _And I will have to take care of him._

As Galatea applied a potion to heal his arm, Pim watched over the boy.

_I will do my absolute best to protect and train you, Harry Potter._

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Privet Drive, it was quickly turning into one of the worst days in the lives of any of the four Dursleys. But what they didn't know was that it was about to get even worse.

An old man wearing half-moon spectacles and sporting a long beard and crooked nose managed to make his way throughout the crowd without drawing suspicion to himself, almost as if by magic. In fact, it was magic which was allowing him to do this.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (and holder of many other titles) made his way to Number Four, and entered while the police were outside, taking pictures of the incident as well as taking statements from witnesses.

Dumbledore had been in the middle of dinner when he felt that somehow, something was… _wrong_. After discretely excusing himself and heading back up to his office at a brisk pace, he happened to find that the wards around Number Four, Privet Drive, were going off. He then told the portraits in his office to tell his colleagues that he would be away for a little while, before transforming his robes into Muggle clothes, and taking out a special Portkey to Privet Drive, one which he had hoped he would never need to use.

But soon enough, before even crossing the threshold to the Dursley's house, Dumbledore learned one terrible truth: _Harry Potter was now missing._

Miss Majorie Dursley was currently outside, still sobbing over her dead dog. That left Harry's three immediate relatives, who sat in the kitchen by themselves, trying to avoid embarrassment in front of the neighborhood.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said as he walked into the room. Mr. Dursley and young Dudley Dursley looked at this newcomer, confused and instantly suspicious, but Mrs. Dursley jumped up and screamed with fright.

"Please calm down, Mrs. Dursley," Dumbledore suggested calmly.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" she snapped. "You've done that before, leaving that boy here on my doorstep all those years ago…"

Dumbledore frowned. Somehow, he got a feeling that Harry may not have had a very loving family to grow up with…

"What happened?" he asked, calmly but now also seriously.

"He hit Ripper – that's Aunt Marge's bulldog – lured it outside, got into a fight with it, pushed it in front of a car, ran back inside, hit me, and ran away like a coward!" Dudley shouted, rambling.

However, a quick yet informative glance into young Dudley's mind through Legilimency told Dumbledore otherwise.

"Really? And are you sure that was what happened, and in fact, you did not carelessly push young Mr. Potter onto your aunt's bulldog, which in turn chased him up a tree, then attacked him once he was back on the ground, was accidentally pushed into the path of an oncoming car, and then Mr. Potter was forced back into the house, where you hurt him and prompted him to try and defend himself, and then he fled?"

Dudley flushed with anger. "I didn't do anything! It was that _freak's_ fault!"

Dumbledore nearly did a double take at such hateful words spewing from this ten-year-old boy's mouth. This did not bode well at all.

"Was it now?" Dumbledore asked with a small yet noticeable edge in his voice.

"Are you calling my son a liar?" Mr. Dursley shouted, instantly going red in the face again.

"I suppose maybe I am," Dumbledore said, his patience really waning now… especially after he also used his skills at Legilimency to take quick looks into the minds of Harry's aunt and uncle.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Mrs. Dursley suddenly screeched. "How dare you leave us with that – that – that _brat_ and then get mad at us when things don't go according to your plans!"

"How dare _I_?" Dumbledore repeated disbelievingly. "How dare _you_ treat _any_ child that way just because he was left with you. He never did anything to you, and you treated him as though he was the instigator for all the ills in your life."

"Well, maybe he was!" Mrs. Dursley retorted. "And how dare you question the way we treated him after you essentially _abandoned_ him with us! The way I see it, you're just as responsible for this, if not more so!"

There were very few times when Dumbledore was truly angry, and this was now one of them. Those brilliant blue eyes began to radiate with a kind of heat, and he gave off an aura of great and terrible power.

He went for his wand to use magic to somehow make the Dursleys see just how terrible they were to their own kin, and maybe also to punish them somehow for their cruelty and their stupidity… but then he thought against it.

"The blood protection provided by this home worked not just for Harry, but for all of you as well. And now… if a year goes by without Harry coming back here, they will collapse permanently and irreversibly. They could protect all of you from any evil which attacked his house, but if that protection falls apart for good, then you may have just condemned yourselves.

"So, on the off-chance that you just happen to find Harry within the next year or so, I would highly recommend bringing him back, not just for his sake, but for yours as well. Because if it doesn't work… then you just may have condemned yourselves to complete vulnerability against the darker elements of the magic which you hate and fear so much."

Mrs. Dursley was as white as a sheet by the time Dumbledore was done with his warning.

"Oh, and Petunia?" Dumbledore asked a less hostile tone. She nodded dumbly. _"Remember my last."_

Mr. Dursley was just about to ask what that meant when suddenly a young policeman walked into the room. "We have more questions for you," he said coldly as they turned to look at him. The Dursleys had a sinking feeling about the tone in his voice, which indicated that he may have had something on them which could get them in trouble…

* * *

In the meantime, Dumbledore had quickly made himself invisible before anyone else could see him there. With that, he quietly snuck out the back, doing his own little inspection of the grounds, to see if he could find out what happened to Harry. However, all he found was a small magical trail which ended quite abruptly at the property line. Sighing with disappointment and frustration, Dumbledore used his Portkey to send himself back to his office at Hogwarts.

He sat down wearily, what could have possibly gone wrong. From looking through their memories, he had seen how cruelly and badly they had treated him… punishing him for whatever went wrong in their lives… making him the slave with more duties than a house elf (after all, house elves never had to do laundry)… and telling him horrible lies about his parents.

Dumbledore honestly thought that even the Dursleys wouldn't be so bad to their own nephew… apparently, he was wrong. He only considered physical abuse and harm, and never other kinds, such as verbal and mental abuse. He would have _never_ left Harry with his awful relatives if he had known…

And then Petunia Dursley's words came back to haunt him… about he was just as responsible for Harry's ordeal as the Dursleys were, if not more so.

_NO,_ he thought to himself forcefully. _They could still have taken proper care of him… me leaving Harry with them was absolutely no excuse for their abominable actions…_

But deep down, Dumbledore knew that he was responsible for not looking into matters himself between then and now.

_And if Harry ever finds out that I was responsible for all those years of torment and suffering, he just might come after me himself._

As for Harry Potter now being missing… that realization in itself made Dumbledore feel sick. If the Wizarding world found out about their young savior being missing, they would try and find out why it happened, and then they would find out about how the Dursleys treated Harry… and it could turn into chaos from there. It would mean a disastrous blow for Wizard/Muggle relations, with Muggle-hating witches and wizards capitalizing on Harry's ordeal to "prove" to the rest of the world that Muggles were savage and terrible monsters. On top of that, some witches and wizards would try and take matters into their own hands by exacting revenge on the Dursleys, which could end badly in any number of ways.

As Dumbledore held his head in his hands, he gazed over the top of his desk to an ordinary mirror which stood there across the room. In it, Dumbledore could see just how terrible he looked… how useless.

_That's one of the few things I dislike about myself,_ he thought bitterly. _I rarely make errors or mistakes, but when I do, they seem to be large, uncontrollable disasters._

Suddenly flaring up with anger, Dumbledore took one of the nearest silvery instruments on his desk which he could reach and flung it as hard as he could at the mirror. It hit the mirror in the center with surprising accuracy, and then the entire mirror fell apart into reflective fragments on the floor.

The entire office was silent as looked down at the surface of his desk, wondering what he could possibly do now.

_What have I done?_ Dumbledore thought to himself miserably as he sank into his chair. _Oh Merlin, WHAT HAVE I DONE?_

Dumbledore vowed to himself that he would fix his mistake and somehow make things up to Harry, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

A/N:So, how was that for a change?

**Regarding the chapter title… it's a nod to the famous poem by Robert Frost. Personally, I thought it was quite fitting for this chapter, since it's where things diverge from the canon path. (And it also happens to be the title of a _Stargate__: SG-1_ episode, also named after the poem, even though this chapter has nothing to do with that.)**

Also, note that I'm adjusting the timeline so that Harry is only nine years old (but nearly ten) when he runs away, so he'll have at least one full year to stay at the Tower of Pim and be free of the Dursleys before finally going to Hogwarts.

As for Ripper's death… I hope nobody was upset by that (it was what I meant by "minor character death"). As for the Dursleys' downfall… they'll go down with a one-two punch. You'll see.

Mrs. Figg's tabby cat "Strider" is of my own creation but is NOT named after Aragorn from _The Lord of the Rings_, and is instead named after the Latin word _stridor_, meaning "trouble," in that he can either _cause_ trouble or can _sense_ trouble. (No offense to Tolkien's work or its fanbase.) As for cats having their own "Feline" language… well, the rabbits in Richard Adams' classic novel _Watership__ Down_ had their own "Lapine" language, so I figured, _why not?_

Galatea was the name of a woman from Greek mythology who was originally a statue. Her creator, the sculptor Pygmalion, hated women, and so he decided to create his own perfect woman out of marble. However, after releasing how pointless and ridiculous his situation was, by treating his sculpture like a living being, he realized just how miserable he was. Sometime later, he went to the temple of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, and prayed to her to turn his statue into a real woman. When he returned home, he found that his wish had been granted. (I decided to name this automaton after Galatea, since it just seemed appropriate somehow.) Furthermore, the idea of a "robot" as we know it, a nonliving servant which could do chores and other such things, originally came from Greek mythology; the first ones were created by Hephaistos, the god of fire and patron of blacksmiths, and were used to either help serve the gods on Mount Olympus or help the god himself in his own workshop.

As for the broken mirror in Dumbledore's office… foreshadowing, perhaps?

Furthermore, I'm referring to Book 1 as _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, not _Sorcerer's Stone_. Yes, I'm American, and so I'm more inclined to know the first _Harry Potter_ book as that, but I figured I might as well go with Queen and Country on this.

Oh, and one other thing… _please don't forget to review!_

**_–Quillian_  
(First posted: February 9, 2007)  
(Last edited: September 12, 2012)**


	3. THE KIND TUTELAGE OF PIM

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**SPECIAL DISCLAIMER:** Snowdonia National Park does exist, and **Coulsdon**** Eagle** suggested it to me as an ideal place for the Tower of Pim. I'm sure the people in charge of it won't mind me plunking my fictitious tower in their locale.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Two, "The Vanishing Glass."**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO  
THE KIND TUTELAGE OF PIM**

Harry slowly rose out of sleep.

_What?_ he thought groggily. _Where am I?_

He felt himself lying in a comfortable bed, on a comfortable mattress and under a comfortable blanket.

_Somehow, I don't think I'm back in my room at Privet Drive…_

_"So, what do you think of the bed?"_ a disembodied voice asked him. _"Personally, I like the Egyptian cotton myself."_

Harry's eyes snapped wide open at that, and sat bolt upright in bed.

_"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were still tired. Please, don't let me bother you…"_

Then it all came back to Harry. He remembered everything from last night… the Dursleys… Aunt Marge… Ripper… this place, whatever it was…

Harry flinched involuntarily as he remembered all that, and subconsciously reached for his left arm…

…Only to find that his wounds were now gone, and it felt as though he had never been hurt in the first place.

"What…?" Harry began to ask, trying to articulate a question. _"How…?"_

_"Would you believe magic?"_ the voice asked with an invisible grin.

"I don't believe it," Harry murmured, amazed.

_"Is it really so hard to believe?"_ the voice asked, beginning to sound humored. _"Your wounds are healed, you're all cleaned up… in fact, I even took the liberty of fixing up your clothes."_

Harry looked down to see that his clothes looked completely brand-new… and not only that, but they actually fit him, and were in his size.

"So…" Harry said. "Who are you?"

_"My name is Pim,"_ the disembodied voice answered him.

"Er, if you don't mind me asking," Harry said slowly, but then just blurted out, "What are you?"

The voice lightly chuckled. _"Well, I am human… or at least I was. I'm now part of this tower. Long story."_

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He then hopped out of the bed, and went over to the nearest window. He nearly did a double take after first looking out of it.

He was in a mountainous area. He thought he could see a few buildings in the distance, but he couldn't be sure.

_"Here, if it helps, I can show you what I look like… or at least as I did in the past…"_

And suddenly, a vision of a young man appeared behind Harry. The young boy turned around to take a look.

The man had the skin tone of someone from Egypt or somewhere else in Northern Africa, and dark, wavy black hair which went down to his neck. He also wore tan-colored robes, and plain sandals.

"I was born thousands of years ago," he told Harry, his voice sounding more normal. "I would say… oh, at least seven thousand years ago!"

Harry looked shocked. "You're that old?"

"In a manner of speaking," Pim said with a shrug. "I was killed, oh, say…" he briefly consulted the tower's inner clock. "One thousand, four hundred and ninety years ago."

Harry nearly fell over from shock. _"Killed?"_ he whispered. After a beat, he then asked quietly, "Are you a ghost?"

"No, or at least not in the sense which you're undoubtedly thinking of," Pim said casually – or at least as casually as one could say it under these unique circumstances.

"May I ask what happened?" Harry said timidly.

"Eh… let's just say I got into a fight with an old girlfriend," Pim said with a shrug. Harry somehow got the feeling that he was joking, and didn't press the topic.

_Actually, that's more-or-less the truth,_ Pim mused privately.

"If it's not a problem, Harry… may I look into your memories? Since I've been dormant for nearly fifteen hundred years since my death, I'd like to see what's gone on in the world since then."

"Go… into my memories?" Harry repeated uncertainly.

"Oh, it won't hurt… I'll just be looking through that which has already happened, as you have witnessed things. Tell me, Harry, would you consider yourself to be a decent student?"

"Sure," Harry said, shrugging. "I work hard and read a lot at school…" (However, Harry wasn't entirely sure about his _real_ grades, as he had never seen them to know for himself.)

"Very well, then, Harry," Pim said. "Just a moment…"

The next moment, silver-white mist came up out of the floor and began to circle around Harry in a sort of helix. Soon enough, he was surrounded by this strange mist every which way he looked.

And then the next moment, the memories began.

At first, Pim began sorting through Harry's memories of him learning lessons in his classes or reading information from library books.

The first thing which Pim did was commit to memory the calendar used in this new world. Doing some quick calculations, Pim estimated that his magic was first revealed and accidental immortality first achieved approximately 5500 B.C., the Hebrews escaped from Egypt approximately 1250 B.C., Alexander (or "Alexander the Great," as he was now called) died in 306 B.C., Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C., the Roman Empire finally collapsed in 476 A.D., and Pim himself had been killed by Amu in 500 A.D.

But then Pim delved into this knowledge of everything which had happened since then, and he saw some things which had truly amazed and yet horrified him.

Europe had fallen into what was known as the "Middle Ages" or "Dark Ages"… somewhere in Asia Minor (now known as the Middle East or Near East), a new religion known as "Islam" began to develop, which had ties to Judaism and Christianity… then Europe rose again and flourished in a period known as the Renaissance, when brilliant thinkers began to rediscover knowledge which had not been used since ancient Greece or Rome… the continents later known as North America and South America (named after the Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci), which would be explored and later be conquered, piece by piece over the centuries, by European explorers and colonists… the Age of Enlightenment… new countries and nations rising in the Americas, the first true democracies since Greece and Rome… the Industrial Revolution…

And then came the twentieth century, perhaps the most turbulent century of all in human history so far… humans achieving the power of flight, which was improved upon over time… the two brutal and devastating "world wars" during the first half of the century, which included such horrors as the Holocaust and the use of the atomic bomb… the races to get into space and reach the moon first… actually landing on the moon… civil rights movements… developments in machines called "television" and "computers"…

Pim was snapped out of his amazed reverie by Harry's pleas for him to stop. He withdrew from the young boy's mind, and Harry stood there, looking and feeling a little dizzy.

"I'm very sorry about that, Harry," he said apologetically. "I suppose I got kind of carried away there…"

"I'll say," Harry said dizzily, closing his eyes to help straighten himself out.

"We can discuss the past fifteen centuries' worth of history another time," Pim said, changing topics now. "Why don't I show you the rest of the tower?"

"Sure thing," Harry said, getting over the rest of his dizziness.

Harry followed Pim out of this room, with its wooden floor, stone walls and beautiful furniture. They were now in a small, circular hallway which had doorways in it to five other rooms just like Harry's. In the center was the central column which helped support the entire tower, around which there was a not-so-narrow but somewhat-steep spiral staircase.

The next level down was where the baths and toiletries were located ("Very convenient, seeing as they're on the floor just underneath the bedrooms," Pim told Harry).

However, Pim then directed Harry to what looked like a small circular room within the room itself. There appeared to be a doorway within that. "Wave your hand over the small red gem on the surface on the side, Harry," Pim told him. Harry did so, and the doors opened up. _Just like an elevator,_ Harry thought to himself.

On the opposite "wall" of the circular "elevator" was a diagram of the tower itself, with soft glowing lights for all of the levels, from the ground level to the level they were on with all the baths.

"Push a light, and you'll be transported to that level," Pim instructed Harry. "Take us to the ground floor."

Harry did so, and after a moment (during which Harry thought he felt a small, tingling sensation), the doors opened up… to reveal a completely different room.

This room had big main doors, nearly as tall as the ceiling itself (which was ten feet high). There were chairs, tables, and other pieces of furniture scattered all around, plus what appeared to be a coat rack here or there. Also placed throughout were relics from bygone eras, notably those from Egypt, Greece and Rome. There were wall-paintings and bas-reliefs, pots and plates, busts and sculptures, murals and mosaics…

However, Harry then noticed something else. Just before, when he was on the upper level of the tower with its rooms, he was facing north. Now, however, judging by the sun's position, he was facing south.

"That… thing we were just in," Harry addressed Pim. "That's not a normal elevator, is it?"

Pim took a moment to figure out what Harry was talking before he realized as he remembered his foray into the boy's memories. "No, not in the sense you're thinking of," Pim explained. "Unlike non-magical elevators, this does not go in a straight line up and down a shaft. This actually teleports its occupants from one level of the tower to another, regardless of where the terminal is on any given level. I call it a _Transcamera_."

"Ah, that's rather neat."

Pim smiled and nodded. "Indeed."

Pim allowed Harry to look around for a few moments at all the different wonders which would make museum curators, archeologists, and all kinds of history buffs drool with anticipation and excitement.

Harry stopped at a mural which was several feet long, which depicted two armies in battle.

"Hey, I think I've seen this somewhere before! Or at least something like it…" Harry took a few moments, but finally remembered what it was. "One time, when I was browsing through books in my school's library, I saw a reproduction of a mosaic just like this… and it's known as the Alexander mosaic! It shows the Battle of Issus in 333 B.C."

"Really?" Pim asked, intrigued at this boy's knowledge. "May I ask what it was?"

"Oh, they found this mosaic in Pompeii, except a few small chunks of it were missing. It's now in a museum in Naples, in Italy. But this," Harry gestured to it, "this is amazing… not to mention complete!"

Harry continued to look around at the various relics, which included sets of jewelry, weapons and armor, pots and other vessels…

"Come," said Pim. "Let us see the rest of the tower."

Knowing he would have time to look at the rest later, Harry followed Pim up the stairs to the other levels of the house, starting with the first floor above the ground.

The first floor was the library. It was filled, not so much with books, but very old scrolls, and even tablets. Written in different dialects of ancient Egyptian, Greek and Latin, as well as some documents in older forms of Hebrew, Aramaic, and Arabic, they filled every conceivable nook and cranny of the room. In the center was a table with a lamp, which actually had more space than it looked from where Harry was standing, towards the edge of the room.

The second floor was one of the laboratories, where new spells and potions could be invented or developed. There were also protective barriers at various places in the room, made with stone or wood, but also reinforced by magic itself. According to Pim, the area could also be used for dueling practice, and there were even some automatons which could help with that purpose.

The third floor was an upper level to the library, and so the two levels were also connected by their own special staircase.

The fourth floor was another one of the laboratories, but this one was for various animals, both magical and non-magical. However, all the cages were empty, but that was no surprise, since there had been no creatures to raise and look after for the better part of the last fifteen hundred years.

The fifth floor was a laboratory nearly identical to that of the one below it, except this one was meant for plants and fungi. Again, with nothing to keep or tend to for the past fifteen hundred years, it was currently empty.

The sixth floor was a massive storage room filled with potions, weapons, furniture, and some other devices the likes of which Harry had never seen or ever could have imagined before. And unless his eyes were deceiving him, there was also treasure in a few chests, with things like gold and jewels.

However, the seventh floor was completely empty.

So was the eighth floor.

And the ninth floor.

And the tenth floor.

However, the eleventh floor was the floor on which Harry and Pim got into the transcamera, with the baths and other recreational purposes, which was where they started the tour before entering the Transcamera.

"And, as you recall, the floor above us – the twelfth floor – is the area with the bedrooms where you woke up," Pim concluded. "However, just in case you were wondering, the Transcamera does not go up there simply because there was no room left, and it is just as well, because it might disturb a person's privacy if the Transcamera went up there. So, this floor is the highest it can go up to with the Transcamera, but not the stairs."

"If you don't mind me asking, Pim," Harry said, "Why are some of the floors in this tower empty?"

"Well, I wanted to plan ahead and make sure I had some extra room, just in case," Pim explained. "However… I got killed before I could really do anything with them. But on the plus side, at least now I have some spare room."

Pim led Harry back up to the room which the young boy had woken up in, and asked him to sit down.

"Now, Harry," Pim said, "I want to talk you about something."

Harry nodded to show that he was listening and paying attention.

"I built this tower because I wanted to provide a place of refuge for young wizards who were not only worthy of being here, but also those who _needed_ to come here, in that they needed to escape from somewhere and take refuge here. You have the potential to be a great wizard, Harry. If you accept my invitation, you can stay here as a ward, and this will become your new home. But first of all… can you think of anywhere else you can go to? Any relatives, perhaps?"

Harry shook his head. "No… I don't know anything about any other relatives I might have. Whenever I asked… Aunt Petunia told me not to ask questions."

Pim nodded gravely, inwardly cursing that foolish woman and her equally foolish family. He had seen enough abuse from some families in the past… even though, in different times in places, there were different definitions of what constituted discipline and what constituted abuse.

"Also," Harry added quietly, "I'm sorry, Pim, but I think you might be mistaken. I don't think I can be such a great wizard."

"May I ask why you feel that way?" Pim asked politely.

"The Dursleys… well… how come I wasn't just able to use magic?" Harry asked.

"Magic, like any other talent, is something which someone is born with," Pim explained, both factually and philosophically. "However, like any other talent, one is not born with the knowledge of how to use it. But sometimes, people accidentally discover their talents…"

Something about Pim's words triggered memories deep within Harry. There was the time he accidentally found himself on the roof of the school… the time he accidentally turned his teacher's hair blue… the time he re-grew his hair after Aunt Petunia gave him that horrible "hair cut," if it could be called that…

"So, things involving accidental magic have happened before?" Pim asked, judging the look on Harry's face.

"Yes, I suppose they have," Harry said slowly. "But I don't know about having 'the potential to be a great wizard,' as you put it."

"You may not be all that powerful at the moment, but like your physical body, your magic will also grow in time," Pim reassured him.

Something else then occurred to Harry. The Dursleys insistence that he not ask questions… how they reacted to whenever he accidentally did any magic… how they seemed to hate the idea of _anything_ not acting as it should…

"I just realized something," Harry said, shocked. "The Dursleys… or at least my aunt and uncle… they _knew_ about magic. Oh my God… that's why they… they…"

"Were mean to you?" Pim supplied.

Harry looked a little ill and sat down on the ground, shocked. "Because of me… they acted that way because of _me_…"

Hugging his knees to his chest, he muttered to himself, "I don't think I like magic very much…"

"Harry!" came a sharp rebuke. The boy immediately flinched, and after Pim realized his mistake, he quickly corrected his approach. "Harry," he said more softly. "Please, look at me."

Harry slowly looked up, to see Pim looking concerned, as well as sympathetic.

"Harry… what happened between you and your disgraceful relatives _was not your fault_. They were dishonest with you from the start about you and what you were capable of. They hated and feared magic so much that, for whatever reason, they tried to get you to stop doing magic without telling you, which would have let you know that magic existed. You are not to blame, Harry, but they are. They were wrong to try and punish you for having to live with them, using _your_ magic as justification for _their_ actions. You are not and were not the instigator of all the ills in their life. And the fact that you have magic and they do not is _no_ excuse for them to 'punish' you."

Harry didn't look very convinced. "I still helped kill Aunt Marge's dog… wouldn't that make them right about me using magic to ruin their lives? Okay, so that bulldog was mean, I admit it, but still…"

It was a good thing that Pim had more self-control, otherwise he would have been spluttering in outrage and disbelief at the notion. Calmly, he said, "First of all, the fact that you show remorse, even for that horrible dog, shows that _you are not_ some heartless murderer. Again, your use of magic was _accidental_, not deliberate. And on top of that, you were merely trying to defend yourself, _as your horrible relatives stood by and watched, and actually encouraged that dog to attack you_. What you did was certainly justifiable."

Pim was strongly reminded of that incident in the cave, thousands of years ago, where that beast – he _still_ didn't know what kind of creature it was – had attacked him, even though he was only seeking water for his own survival.

"Even _I_ have had to defend myself against terrible beasts whose only goal was to harm or even kill me," Pim added. "Do not let it bother you, Harry. They had the opportunity to call it off and stop that dog, but they did not. It was entirely their fault, not yours."

Harry felt somewhat better after listening to Pim more-or-less _exonerate_ him of that incident.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You are most certainly welcome," Pim said with an encouraging smile. "So… will you accept my offer? I will do my absolute best to raise, protect and train you. I will be your guardian… perhaps not in the legal sense which you might be thinking of, but certainly in the literal sense. I don't have all that many rules, and I can tell that you're not the troublemaking kind of brat who could destroy things. Basically, my most important rule is that you don't just go wandering away from this tower and its grounds, especially not without my permission. This would be for your own safety, and the secrecy of this place."

"That's it?" Harry asked. "You really don't want anything else from me in return?"

Pim suddenly remembered the main reason he merged his soul with his tower in the first place: Just in case Amu ever returned.

_"Well, you can stick around and train to help me finish off the disembodied spirit of this evil witch who might still be around after all these centuries… oh, and by the way, did you know she was the one who managed to kill me in the first place?"_

Even within Pim's mind, that sounded stupid.

_Hopefully, I will be able to tell him about Amu_, he thought to himself. _Just not today. Besides, I don't know for a fact that she's even still around. So do I really need to worry Harry about her?_

"No, apart from abiding by my rules and being a diligent student, you need not do anything for me in return," Pim said. "Although if you could help me catch up on what's been happening in the world since I died and such, that would be nice.

"So… will you accept my offer?"

Harry took a few moments to think about it. He wasn't being pressured or bullied into a decision, which was good… he really didn't have anywhere else to go… and this seemed like one of the best opportunities he would ever have.

How could he refuse?

"Deal," Harry said at last. He then moved to shake Pim's hand… except his hand went right through that of the tower's master.

"This is not my physical body, Harry," Pim explained, "although it does still exist, to be sure. In a sense, I am alive, but now merged with this tower, my home… but I will always be here."

"Thank you," Harry said happily. Pim could even see small glimmers of both hope and happiness appear in those emerald green eyes.

"It is settled, then," Pim announced. "I, Pim, will be the guardian to you, Harry Potter."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Harry rambled gratefully, and Pim could sense some of that lost childlike wonder and innocence return to him.

"You are most certainly welcome," Pim said with a chuckle. "Now… would you like some breakfast?"

Harry's first thought was to ask where the kitchen was so he could make breakfast, but Pim then added, "Please, let me do it. You've acted like their slave long enough. Indulge yourself for a change."

Harry shrugged as if to say "okay." "In the meantime, Galatea has some clothes which might fit you," Pim told him. "Why don't you go see what she has?"

Harry nodded and bounded off to find Pim's "robot."

_I like this boy already,_ Pim mused to himself. _Besides, he's already a lot better than that one brat in Greece who tried to smash an amphora over my head._

* * *

"Well, it's not much for now, but hopefully we'll be able to make something better," Pim said as Harry tried out the clothes in his room. Harry was dressed in a Roman toga, and it showed just how skinny and small he really was.

_Maybe I'll slip some growth potion into his food… you know, just to have him as big and tall as he should be,_ Pim thought. _But then again, honesty is the best policy, and we have to start somewhere._

"Say, Harry," Pim then said, "I was thinking… you're a little small for your age… but I was just wondering if you would like to change that."

Harry stared at Pim. "You can do that?" he asked, amazed.

"Fortunately, yes," Pim said. "Magic can't do everything and anything you could possibly think of, but fortunately, this is one of them."

The next moment, the silver-white mist returned, rising up around Harry and flying around him like a multitude of spirits…

"I am not going into your memory again," Pim said, "I'm just going to magically observe your body… to try and figure out how tall you should be."

_Because the Dursleys neglected you and caused your malnutrition,_ he mentally added but wisely did not say aloud.

Pim could then see, through his own unique magic, the inner working of Harry's body. He could see the boy's heart beating, his breath moving in and out, the synapses of his brain firing…

_Some ancient physicians probably would have killed for an opportunity like this,_ Pim mused.

And a few moments later, Pim was done. Although he didn't show it, he was horrified by how short and small the boy was. He needed lots of nutrients, such as calcium for his bones, and Vitamin C for his immune system.

"Okay, I think I see what the problem is," Pim said at last. "Please wait here, while I get some food for you."

Pim took a few steps towards the door, and then stopped as though realizing something. "Right, of course," he muttered to himself; the next moment, he simply vanished into thin air.

A few moments later, a modest wooden table appeared in front of Harry so suddenly that he thought it had popped out of the ground. A ceramic plate then appeared on it, as well as a clay cup and a clay jug. After that, the food appeared: An apple, an orange, two eggs, a chunk of cheese and a slice of bread all suddenly materialized on the plate, and the jug filled itself with water.

"Eat and enjoy," Pim said with a smile as he briefly reappeared. "While you're doing that, I will work on a way to help you."

After he disappeared again, Harry looked down at his food. While the logical side of his mind told him that it was a perfectly acceptable amount of food for a human being to eat for the first and most important meal of the day, he was just too used to eating too little to eat this much.

However, after he realized that he might be acting rude towards Pim for not eating it all, not to mention possibly disobeying his orders, Harry started eating.

Harry didn't know where Pim might have gotten the food, but he didn't complain. Actually, once he took the first step and began eating, he thought less about how much he had to eat. Before he knew it, it was all gone, and he was washing it down with a cup of water.

As if on cue, Pim returned, a small vial of some potion magically floating behind him, seeing as he couldn't physically hold objects. "Good breakfast, Harry?" he asked.

"Yes, it was delicious, thank you," Harry said, gratefully and truthfully.

"Very well, then. I have just what you need." The floating vial of whatever it was bobbed up and down. "Catch," Pim said, and the next moment, it sailed in an arc towards Harry, who quickly and instinctively caught it.

"Drink it up."

Harry uncorked it, but a second later, when he caught a whiff of it, he immediately held it at arm's length, and pinched his nose with the other hand. "What _is_ this?" he asked, with his voice slightly distorted from holding his nose.

"The potion which will make you as tall as you should be, and bring you up to speed with your growth."

Harry sighed. "Thanks." He then muttered to himself, "I swear, there must be some sort of inverse relationship between how good something tastes and how healthy it is for you…"

Pim chuckled softly as Harry held his nose and drank it down. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and an even worse aftertaste. It was all he could do not to vomit after he had completely swallowed all of it.

After Harry waited for a few moments, trying to think about anything other than the unpleasant aftertaste of that potion, he felt something within him…

It felt like it was getting warmer inside his body… but then it got hotter… it almost felt as though he was on fire!

He gripped the table, trying to focus on anything other than this pain… he yelled out, "ARGH! WHAT'S GOING ON!?"

Finally, after a moment which felt more like an hour, the pain stopped and the sensations subsided. Harry breathed in and out, trying to calm himself. "What was that?" he gasped.

"Sorry about that," Pim apologized. "I think perhaps I should have warned you…"

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort, instead opting to say nothing.

Looking up, he then noticed something.

Just minutes before, as Harry was eating his breakfast, he could just barely see over the edge of the table; now, however, he could see over a it a little bit more.

"Did it work?" he asked Pim.

After looking at Harry closely, he said, "Yes, you appear to have grown a few inches… maybe more."

Harry smiled, starting to forget the painful effects of the potion. "Thanks!"

He got out of his chair, but then he looked down to see that the hem of the toga, which went down to about his ankles, was now somewhere between his ankles and his knees.

"I think now would be a good time to get you some new clothes, Harry," Pim observed. "Excuse me for a moment."

With that, Pim vanished from sight again. The next moment, however, clothes began to appear. Long-sleeved shirts, short-sleeved shirts, pants, shorts, socks, and underwear seemed to rain down in small piles out of the ceiling.

_Well, I think I got the design, material and size correct,_ Pim thought to himself. _Oh, and before I forget…_

A pair of trainers, a pair of sandals, a belt, a scarf, and a cloak appeared in their own separate little pile.

"Well, I think that should be enough for now," Pim said as his image reappeared.

"Thank you," Harry said, amazed, as he inspected the clothing. It felt perfectly brand-new, with no indicator that it had even been used before. "Thank you very much."

"It was really no problem, Harry. Let's put these clothes away."

After that was done, Pim told Harry, "What do you say we go outside? It's a lovely spring day."

Harry nodded. "I would like that a lot."

"There is magic keeping this tower hidden, invisible, and this extends for some area around the tower itself, so you are not suddenly visible the moment you step out the door."

Harry then realized something else. "But if there are other people around… they might suddenly notice me pop out of nowhere, and wonder where I am came from…"

"Precisely, Harry. That is why I will help you stay invisible, even outside of the tower and its grounds."

Galatea then walked in, bearing in her arms what looked like a silvery bundle of cloth. With a smile and a nod, she proffered it to Harry.

Harry observed it as he accepted it from Galatea with a "thank you." It was hard to describe… it almost felt like water woven into thread.

"Try it on," Pim said to him. "It is a cloak."

Harry put the cloak, like so. However, he looked down the next moment… and saw himself gone.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, nearly jumping up into the air. "Where'd I go?"

"Oh, you're still where you are physically," Pim smiled. "But that's what happens when you put on an Invisibility Cloak."

_"An Invisibility Cloak?"_ Harry repeated incredulously. "Wow…"

"Now, come with me, and we can go outside together."

Harry followed Pim down the stairs to the next floor, and then took the Transcamera to the ground floor. He also had to take great care not to accidentally trip over himself as he moved about, clad in the Invisibility Cloak.

As the front doors opened on Pim's silent command, Harry asked, "By the way… does this place have a name?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact, it does," Pim said happily. "The Tower of Pim!"

Underneath the invisibility cloak, Harry repeated dubiously, _"The Tower of Pim?"_

"Eh," Pim shrugged, "In the years after the collapse of the Roman Empire, people knew me as 'Pim,' rather than 'Pim.' There was this one family in particular which did not live far from here… they were a strange and eccentric bunch, and tried to convince everyone else around about a 'Tower of Pim' which existed around here. But no one else was really interested in it, and so from what I can tell, 'The Tower of Pim' remained so obscure that it didn't even go down through history as myth or legend!"

"Wow," Harry commented. "Good for you and the secrecy of your tower."

"Naturally."

"Still… ever consider renaming it?"

"No… I figure, _what's the point?_ No one else is supposed to know about its existence anyway, so as long as the name of this tower isn't something stupid or ridiculous, what does it matter? I believe it was your Bard who said in his 'rewrite' of _Pyramus__ and Thisbe_ who said that 'a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.' Granted, we're not talking about flowers and fragrances here, but still…"

"Don't worry, Pim, I see your point," Harry reassured him.

"Thank you. Now, let us go outside…"

Harry stepped out into the bright sunlight, which came down from a cornflower blue sky with fluffy white clouds, into the valley with its lush green slopes.

"This is a beautiful place," Harry breathed. "You certainly chose this place well, Pim."

"Why, thank you," Pim said, standing next to him, although not in the literal sense. "I actually started building this place about two thousand years ago, but back then, it was something like a Roman villa. I simply decided to renovate."

"To say the least," Harry said distractedly as he looked up the tower, beginning to comprehend just how big and tall it was.

After a moment, he looked back at Pim and asked, "How do you stop other people from finding out about this place?"

"Well, for the most part, Muggles – that is to say, non-magical folk – do not notice magical structures or beings. I have used the same anti-Muggle spells to keep them away… but as for witches and wizards who would naturally see the tower, I've used special magic of my own so that the tower will not reveal itself to anyone it does not recognize. I have already made it so that it accepts you, Harry."

"Right. Also, would they be able to hear us from inside the grounds?"

"No. We are also inaudible, as well as invisible. But once you cross beyond the barrier, it will no longer be the case, so you might stay quiet from underneath the Invisibility Cloak."

"Thanks. How will I know this barrier when I see it?"

"You can feel it as you cross through it. Don't worry, it's only a light tingling sensation. Here… I will make it visible to you."

A faint golden barrier of light appeared in a giant dome around the tower. Harry turned around to look at the top of the tower again, and as he walked backwards, he could see that the top of the golden barrier was connected to the very tip at the top of the tower, or at least very close to it.

"Now," Pim said, walking across the ground towards him, "If you wish to go out and explore briefly, then by all means do so. But do not take too long."

Harry nodded, and Pim could see him do so, even under the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry turned around again, and walked towards the golden barrier, which helped keep this magical place secret from the rest of the world. Pim was right about there being a tingling feeling as he walked through the barrier, but fortunately, it was not painful.

Turning around again, Harry saw that the tower had completely vanished from site. He was now standing alone, in the middle of a valley, and invisible.

Harry took a quick look around; no one else was around. Quickly taking off the cloak, he put one of his hands through were the barrier was; his arm disappeared up to a point just under his elbow, but a faint ring of golden light surrounded it, and Harry could feel that tingling sensation again.

He quickly withdrew his hand and put on the cloak again, becoming invisible once more. With that, he set off.

Harry walked across fresh green grass, barely making a sound as he walked and looked around. These hills and ridges looked so wonderful in themselves, like a natural artwork which no human artist could ever hope to accomplish. On some ridges, he could see the gray stone intermingle with the green grass, with the gray becoming slightly more prevalent over the green as it went higher up a ridge or hill.

As he continued walking, he could hear what sounded like running water.

_That would make sense,_ he thought to himself. _This valley had to have been made by a river or something._

Harry swiftly and quietly moved towards the source of the water, making sure he wasn't too loud. As he drew closer, he could also hear voices.

Doubling his efforts to stay quiet and unnoticed, he crept even closer to the source of these voices. He could see a family of three on vacation; the father was taking food out of a picnic basket while the mother was playing with their son, who looked like he couldn't have been anymore than four years old.

Still, something about them looked familiar…

"I am so glad we could get away for a change," the woman was saying. "Did you hear about what happened back at home?"

"What with that Dursley family a few streets over?" her husband said disdainfully. "So I heard."

Harry nearly fell over but quickly steadied himself. Looking at them closer, he was finally able to recognize them: They were the Evans family, who lived only a few blocks away from the Dursleys. He also recognized their son, Mark, since Dudley tried to chase and bully him once or twice.

"I heard from some people on Privet Drive that Mr. Dursley's sister was visiting, and he brought along this nasty old bulldog called 'Ripper' or something. Those horrid people actually _let_ the dog attack their nephew – in front of the entire street!" Mrs. Evans exclaimed.

Mr. Evans tsked as he shook his head. "That poor boy… why would the Dursleys even take him in to begin with? But then again, they didn't want to let him out of their sight, either. They treated him badly, but didn't let him go… I wonder why?"

"I don't even want to think about it, to be honest," Mrs. Evans replied. "But now that they've shown their true colors in front of the entire neighborhood, the police will be watching them. I heard that lots of people will come forward with complaints against them, now that the chink in the armor has been exposed, so to speak."

"I had the misfortune of running into that Vernon Dursley a few times," Mr. Evans said, sounding like he'd rather not remember it. "Believe me, the less said about him, the better. And let's not forget that nosy wife of his…"

"Or their nasty son?" Mrs. Evans added. "I've heard tales about that boy – Dudley, was it? – and how he bullies children, both at and outside of school, and yet he somehow managed to get away with it all. Fortunately, that awful boy has never been able to harass or hurt Mark."

Their young son, listening to their conversation, piped up at the sound of Dudley's name and his own. "Dudley is a fat, dumb, piggy poopy-head!" he giggled.

Harry had to stifle his own laughter; fortunately, what Mrs. Evans said next covered up the sound of his own stifled laughter.

"Mark!" Mark's mother reprimanded him. "That wasn't very nice…"

"But so true," his father commented. "Top marks for brutal honesty?"

Mrs. Evans shot him a look. "Oh, come on, love," Mr. Evans said, "You have to admit it's almost as though they fatten up that kid on purpose… will probably get his first heart attack before he's old enough to drive."

Mrs. Evans sighed. "I know, dear… but I also just hope that that other boy – Harry Potter, I think his name was – is safe, wherever he is. He always seemed so nice and gentle, too. Probably wouldn't have hurt a fly…"

Harry resisted the urge to snort, considering how he contributed to Ripper's demise, however accidentally and unintentionally.

But at the same time, he was also touched by how this family alone at least suspected that something was wrong with the Dursleys and how they treated him. Who knew how many other families in the area also suspected them?

Just then, he felt something cold and slimy at his ankle. It was a frog!

_It must not have seen me under this Invisibility Cloak. Better do something, quick._

Harry slowly bent low, and quietly shooed it away.

"Mummy, daddy, look!" Mark suddenly shouted, pointing in Harry's direction. "I see something!"

Harry was very careful not to move or even make a sound. How had he been seen? Was the cloak not on properly? He couldn't even risk moving to make sure that the Invisibility Cloak was on straight without revealing himself. However, they didn't seem to see him either…

Mr. Evans stood up and looked around, but didn't see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. As he was looking around, Harry could see a map in his hand, with words in both Welsh and English:

_Parc__ Cenedlaethol Eryri  
Snowdonia__ National Park_

Harry's eyes widened. He was in _Wales_? In _Snowdonia__ National Park_, of all places?

_How ironic,_ he thought to himself as he resisted the urge to shake his head. _The Dursleys never take me on vacation, and here I am in Snowdonia National Park, where they've never been before._

Finally deciding that it was nothing, Mr. Evans sat back down again. "It's nothing," he concluded. "Sorry, Mark, but it looks as though nothing was there after all."

Harry decided it was time to leave. He quietly turned around and began to walk briskly away, but as he was doing so, Mark giggled, "Bye bye!"

Harry gave a little wave under the Invisibility Cloak and continued walking away. By the time he reached the Tower of Pim again, the Evans family and their talk about the Dursleys was the last thing on his mind.

* * *

It was a week or so after Harry first became a resident at the Tower of Pim where he had his first incident, which showed just how much living here would be different from living at the Dursleys.

Harry accidentally knocked over a pot of some kind, and he didn't get a good look at it because the next moment, it fell off its stand and to the floor, where it broke into many pieces.

There was a terrible silence as he realized what just happened. Out of force of habit from when he had to live with the Dursleys, he looked around in a panic and prepared himself for the worst.

Suddenly, Pim came into view. He saw a petrified Harry and a broken pot, and immediately figured out what just happened. However, he had to see something first…

"Harry," he said calmly, "please, do not be scared. I just need you to tell me… what happened?"

"It was an accident, sir," Harry said nervously.

"So you did _not_ mean to break that pot," Pim said, just to clarify.

"Yes, sir."

"You don't need to call me 'sir,' Harry," Pim pointed out. "Although I do like it… makes me feel important or something," he added in an airy tone and appearing thoughtful.

Harry gave out a short, nervous laugh, temporarily forgetting about the situation at hand.

"About that pot, Harry… normally, it's not a good thing when you've broken an ancient and priceless artifact as valuable as that. But fortunately, we have _magic_ at our disposal."

And with that, the pot came back together into one whole piece and flew back onto its spot on the pedestal. In fact, seeing the way Pim did his magic, it almost looked as though the millennia-old wizard has simply reversed time to undo the damage which had been accidentally caused.

"I am certain that you have now learned to be more careful around the pottery and all other artifacts. Have you learned that, Harry?"

"Yes, Pim," Harry said, now sounding more relieved. "Yes I have."

"Very good, Harry. I know full well that it was not some malicious act to cause trouble for me."

"Yes, Pim… also because I wouldn't be able to get you another pot just like it."

Pim then looked as though something had occurred to him. "But I thought you were a potter."

It took a moment before Harry realized Pim's pun. "Oh, I get it now," he said as he began to laugh a little.

Pim smirked. "Very well. I will leave you to it, then. Carry on."

After his image vanished again (Harry and Pim had begun calling it an "avatar"), Harry went back up to the library to read some more.

* * *

As spring made its way into summer, Harry resumed his studies, trying to finish off at least some of what he had begun in school that year, but without his books, homework, and teachers to help him out there, he resigned himself to simply doing whatever he could with what he had.

In the process, Harry actually managed to teach Pim a few things, and then some. Most of what he taught Pim had to do with the last fifteen hundred years' worth of history, and what new discoveries and developments had been made in that time, and even then, that came from what Harry remembered of his studies in history, from both inside the classroom and his independent studying outside of that.

Pim also wanted to teach Harry some mythology from Egypt, Greece and Rome, but it also turned out that the boy knew much about it already, especially the Greco-Roman mythologies. Harry even recited many of the various myths for Pim, and he was impressed by what Harry knew (even if the myths he learned were censored versions meant more for children).

In order to keep Harry's mind sharp, Pim taught him things like ancient history, art and architecture, as well as philosophy. Harry was not a fanatical, _I-want-to-know-everything_ kind of student; he had studied a lot during his life with the Dursleys to keep himself busy and to focus on something other than what they were doing to him. Now that he no longer had that kind of harm looming over him again, he could study more at ease.

Sometimes, Pim even used one of the few empty upper levels of the tower to weave together images of the places and times which he himself had been in, millennia ago. It all seemed so real to Harry that he could almost believe that he was actually in an Egyptian marketplace, Greek temple or Roman forum sometime in the past. Pim had such a wealth of detail that any historian or archeologist would have sold his or her soul just to glean _half_ of this information offered to him.

Under Pim's kind tutelage, Harry grew physically, mentally, and emotionally. Slowly, that shell which he used to protect himself, which was formed from his experiences with the Dursleys, was falling apart, bit by bit. As spring turned more and more into summer, Harry began to enjoy playing outside more and more, under the protective barrier of the tower.

On his birthday, Harry woke up, just considering it to be like any other day, and nothing special. However, he was certainly in for a surprise.

After breakfast, Pim came up to him, smiling, and said, "Happy Birthday, Harry. I have something for you."

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Oh, please, this isn't necessary, Pim…"

"I beg to differ, Harry. I have been making sure for months now that I would have something special for you. For the past few months, I have been making sure that you were healthy enough to handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Basic magic."

Harry gaped for a moment. Pim chuckled. "I did tell you that I would raise and train you, Harry."

"Right, I remember that."

"And I have the means to do so."

Galatea then walked in, bearing a magical staff.

"I made this a long time ago, along with a few other staffs, just in case," Pim explained as Galatea knelt and offered it to Harry. "I think it was about time one of them was put to good use, and that you finally had the means to exercise your magical power."

Pim had explained to Harry sometime ago that all wizards and witches, except for the occasional and extremely rare one among them, needed something like a staff to help manifest their magic to perform the magic spells which they wanted.

"Thank you," Harry said as he accepted the staff from Galatea. She smiled and nodded as she stepped back.

As Harry observed the staff in his hands, he noticed that it was kind of heavy. He looked up to Pim to ask him something, but Pim spoke first. "It was meant more for full-grown magic-users, but in your case, I can adjust it so it will feel lighter for you but still keep its weight and be able to have the same effect."

"Thanks again," Harry said, looking at it and turning it over in his hands.

"I'll start giving you magic lessons tomorrow," Pim told him, "but for today… I can show you how to fight with a staff, if you wish."

Harry nodded eagerly. "Just let me get cleaned up first."

A few minutes later, Harry held his staff. He waved it up and down, swung it around… he could see how Pim did not make it feather-light, but adjusted its weight accordingly so he would have to manage with the actual weight.

Just then, another staff like Harry's came floating into the room before stopping, where it floated in mid-air. Pim's avatar appeared, with the appearance of him holding the other staff.

"Very well… let us begin."

A few hours later, after Harry was worn out and tired, Pim said, "That is enough for today. Rest now. We will continue with your staff combat lessons next week."

It was the first time Harry could recall getting anything decent for his birthday – after all, his parents had to have had a party or something with him when he turned one year old – and while Harry did not have a huge party with lots of friends, loads of gifts and some special entertainment, it was still the best birthday he ever had.

* * *

Summer continued on, with Harry learning more and more under Pim's tutelage. At Pim's suggestion, Harry decided to learn one of the ancient languages from one of the situations which Pim had lived through. Both of them agreed that he should learn Latin, since it was probably one of the easier languages, compared to ancient Greek and such, and because out of all those older civilizations, Rome had been the most recent.

Harry knew some Latin root words, and while Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, Romanian and a few other languages were classified as Romance (Latin-descended) languages, so was English, to an extent, because of how at least half the vocabulary in the English language came from Latin words. He also knew about the verbs in those Romance languages having _conjugations_. However, he was quite surprised with how Latin nouns had _declensions_, and so it took a little while for him to get the hang of that. There was also the issue about how word order was somewhat more lax than it was in English, with the same sentence able to be written a few different ways with its words in a different order.

Harry also figured that Latin might not be such a problem, since practically no one spoke Latin to each other anymore and it was mostly a dead language, but then there was Pim's _insistence_ that he also learn how to speak it as though it were still a fully-living language.

Once he had learned enough Latin, Harry was able to make his own phrase to express some of the frustration he was feeling about his Latin lessons. _"Si hic continuabit, ulalabo,"_ he said aloud one day in a deadpan voice. ("If this continues, I shall scream.")

Pim merely laughed uproariously at that.

* * *

Soon enough, summer turned into autumn, and yet Harry still continued with his exercise outside but within the tower's grounds, now wearing heavier and more appropriate clothing for the season.

Otherwise, life continued as before. Harry did not feel the need to get out of the Tower of Pim and beyond its property, and soon enough, he thought he figured out why: He had been a virtual prisoner and slave at the Dursleys' house, but here, he was a guest and a resident, and the ward of Pim.

Lately, Pim observed how Harry had become happier and better and expressing himself. Pim learned how in more recent times, Muggles had something called "art therapy," where a person created images to help them express themselves and what they were feeling; however, he had no papyrus, paper, ink, charcoal, or such supplies for such a thing. So, the tower-bound wizard created a big sandbox for Harry, in which his young apprentice would simply draw or sketch images in the sand.

Pim had been a little worried at first that Harry was secretly hoping to take revenge on the Dursleys, especially after seeing one doodle of Harry's, in which it depicted Number Four, Privet Drive in a huge pile of rubble with smoke rising up from it.

"Harry," he said late one autumn afternoon, after Harry was coming back into the castle to be back before sunset, "there is something I wish to ask you… except I am not quite sure how I should ask you."

Harry noticed Pim's cautious attitude and went along with it. "You can ask me, Pim," he said respectfully.

"Harry," he said delicately, "have you ever thought about what might happen or what you would do if you ever happened upon your relatives again?"

Harry looked at his guardian, surprised. "What makes you ask that?" he asked, truly surprised.

"I remember the other day, when you started to do some freelance drawing in that sandbox, one of the first things you drew was your former home –" Pim then saw Harry flinch at the word "home" and realized he may have used the wrong word "– I apologize, your relatives' home, reduced to a big pile of debris." After a pause, he asked, "May I ask what prompted you to draw that?"

There was no suspicion in Pim's voice, but Harry could see where he was going with this. "I don't know, Pim. I remembered I had some sort of dream where their house collapsed for some reason, I don't know why. I guess I must have drawn it subconsciously…"

"Well, that explains that. But back to my original question… what would you do, if you just happened to run into them again?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know… avoid them, I guess. I can't really say I want to see them again, for whatever reason."

"But you would not hurt them? Use your magic to punish them, make them suffer?"

"No!" Harry shouted, starting to sound very irritated. "I'm not like them, okay!?"

"Harry, please, I'm sorry," Pim said. "I was not implying that you were like them. I was merely concerned that… well, that you might be tempted to take advantage of your magical talents, such as for using them for hurting the Dursleys."

Harry looked at Pim, still a little incensed that he should be compared to those awful relatives of his.

"Harry… I do not doubt you are a noble young man, and a far cry from your relatives. But please understand… sometimes, without even meaning to, we as human beings can get carried away with things, and end up causing more damage than we realize. Also, we can sometimes despise other people for who they are or what they have done, but then get to a point where we become no better than they are, making for a vicious cycle. I am looking out for you for your benefit, Harry, as your guardian, and I do not want to see you fall into some pit of anger and vengeance."

Harry's demeanor softened as Pim softly defended himself.

"Long, long ago," Pim continued, "I found a tribe of non-magical people who had been all killed by a vengeful young witch. She had discovered her magical powers quite by accident, and so they all became afraid of her. Angry that she should be treated such a way, like an outcast, she decided to use her magic to make them suffer." He paused, remembering the painful memories of Amu's ingratitude for saving his life, her massacre of their tribe, and her painful revelation to him millennia after that. "Oh, she was long gone by the time I came upon the scene, but I saw what she did to them.

"Please, Harry…I do not mean to show you any disrespect or mistrust in my questions. But I… well…"

"You don't want the same thing happening again," Harry said quietly. "I understand."

"Please accept my apologies, Harry."

"No need, Pim," he said gently. "Oh, and to completely answer your question: No, I would not deliberately seek out the Dursleys and use my magic to make them suffer for what they did to me."

"That's a good boy, Harry," Pim said with a smile.

_I have many thousands of years of teaching experience, and I have taught thousands of people,_ Pim thought, _but I am beginning to think that this boy may just be the best student I have ever had…_

* * *

However, Harry was not always a perfect little student, either. Even he occasionally got into trouble of his own accord.

It was during one of the last days of November, and snow was coming down hard; it had snowed a lot last night, and it now was still snowing, albeit more gently.

"Well, this is _Snow_-donia National Park," he muttered to himself as he looked out the window for a moment before turning back to what he was doing.

For a brief time, before Pim had magically whisked him away from the Dursleys, Harry read through books on the Japanese art of origami, the folding of sheets of paper into shapes resembling animals, flowers and other things. He also managed to take notes on it, and kept them safely hidden.

Now, Harry was trying to make a paper crane out of a sheet of gray paper which Pim had supplied him with.

_Just a few more steps, and… done!_

A gray paper crane, roughly the size of his own hand, now sat on the table in front of him.

Harry smiled, and then thought of something else.

_I wonder if I could use magic to make it fly…?_

He crossed his room to get his staff, and when he returned, he tried to use one of the basic levitation spells which Pim had just taught him. But at the same time, he was wondering, what if he could also make it fly?

Harry didn't know exactly what happened next, but he guessed that somehow, his thoughts about making it fly, and not just levitate, somehow interfered with the spell he was casting on his origami crane. Whatever happened, it caused the crane to suddenly come to life and fly around madly, zooming all over Harry's room.

It then whizzed within an inch of his face, and he thought about something else: What if he could get a nasty paper cut from this?

As his accidentally-animated crane came around for another pass, he accidentally stumbled back against the window, knocking it open. Harry quickly moved forward again as cold air began to seep into the room. Sensing an escape, the paper crane zoomed out the window and into the falling snow.

In the distance, Harry could have sworn he saw a flash of gold as it penetrated the barrier. A moment later, he realized something else: What if someone found that paper crane which just appeared out of nowhere?

His eyes widened as he realized the ramifications and consequences if someone found his suddenly-appearing origami paper crane.

Rushing from his spot, he grabbed his cloak, put on his boots, and went down to the floor beneath that. From there, he took the Transcamera down to the ground floor, rushed to the front doors, went outside, shut them behind him, and took off in the direction of where the crane went.

It was late in the day, and he had about an hour or less before sunset. The snow fell slowly and gently, and it was silent except for the occasional whisper of wind. The white plains of snow were framed by the gray sky, and it was very cold.

After Harry walked through the magical barrier which protected the Tower of Pim in more ways than one, he was on his own. He had to find that thing!

Harry didn't have a watch on him, so he didn't know if he walked for minutes or for hours. He just knew he was walking uphill, trying to find his paper crane against the white snow and gray sky.

It was not long before he realized just how cold it was, and he wished that he could magically keep himself warm somehow. Doing his best to ignore it, he continued on, through the cold and freezing snow. Even though the sun was hidden, he could still tell that it was getting dark and it would be night soon.

Harry was nearly at the top of the ridge when he noticed something gray at his feet. Halting in mid-step, he stopped from taking another step forward and looked down.

It was his paper crane!

Bending down, he gently collected the crane and flattened it out before safely storing it inside his cloak.

Turning around, he began to make his way back down the slope when he saw a familiar small white light rushing up towards him…

The next moment, he found himself back inside the ground level of the Tower of Pim. Standing just a meter away was Pim's avatar, arms crossed and not looking pleased.

"So," he said neutrally, "would you care to explain exactly what you were doing out there?"

Harry took a moment to compose himself. He also took a moment to observe how Pim looked; neither happy, nor angry… but _disappointed_.

"Pim, I… well, the origami crane I made… I somehow accidentally animated it, and it accidentally escaped from my room and flew out, beyond the tower's barrier… and I wanted to get it back before someone discovered it. You know, to prevent anyone from finding out about it…"

"Somehow, I doubt that many people would have been out in this weather, and even less would have found a gray paper crane among all the white snow during the twilight on a cloudy winter day," Pim responded firmly. "Besides, did it not occur to you to simply _tell_ me about your escaped project so I could magically retrieve it myself?"

Harry winced, but Pim continued anyway.

"You violated the rule about wandering away from this tower without my permission," he reminded Harry. "If you like being out in the snow so much, then you can shovel the snow out of the small yard behind the tower tomorrow."

Harry knew he was being punished, and he accepted it. "Yes, sir."

"You may go now." And with that, Pim's avatar disappeared.

Harry trudged sorrowfully back up to his room. Once he returned, he took out the flattened paper crane and put it at the bottom of one of his drawers, not wanting to look at it anymore.

As Harry was doing that, Pim began to realize just how harsh he had been, and how he didn't mean to sound so cold towards his ward.

The next day, as Harry dutifully shoveled all the snow out of the tower's back yard, thinking about some way to try and apologize to Pim to show how sorry he really was, Pim himself contemplated how to try and reconcile with Harry.

It had been sunrise when Harry first got up and went straight down to the back yard without even having breakfast first, and now it was nearly afternoon as he completed his task. He was relieved that he at least got that done, and he walked back to the door, still trying to think of something honest and meaningful to say to Pim about yesterday's events.

To his surprise, Pim's avatar was already waiting for him at the door. Once Harry came back inside and shut the door behind him, Pim spoke up.

"Harry," he began, but then failed to say anything after that. After looking around for a moment, Pim said, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "What are you apologizing to _me_ for? You didn't do anything wrong, _I_ was the one who broke your rule about leaving the tower…"

"Yes, you did that. However, I probably could have handled that better than I did."

Harry just gaped at him for a moment before he realized what he was doing and straightened himself out.

"Lesson learned, Harry. It's over and done with, but let's not repeat that, either. Now, why don't you come in and warm up, have something hot to eat?"

Harry began to smile again.

* * *

Harry and Pim celebrated Christmas together in an unusual way, for either of them; they had a massive snowball fight outside on the grounds, played a bizarre game of hide-and-seek inside the tower (use of the Transcamera and Pim's avatar-abilities prohibited, of course), and they ate whatever delicious foods they could think of and prepare for a wonderful dinner.

Pim also gave Harry something special: At first glance, it looked like a golden coin with a diamond embedded in its center on the front side, with a circle etched around that. On the other side were wavy, sand-like patterns.

"I call this a 'Recaller,'" Pim told Harry. "If you hold it and press your thumb on the diamond in its center, it should 'recall' you back here, to the tower. I'll see if I can put new spells on it, but in the meantime, just try not to lose it."

"Of course, Pim. Thanks again."

As Harry went to sleep that night, he smiled, happy for all these positive changes in his life.

* * *

As the snows stopped coming and the remaining snow melted, heralding the coming and arrival of spring, both Harry and Pim found themselves reflecting on this year of change for both of them.

Pim marveled at how Harry was able to learn so much and mature while still keep some of his childlike wonder and innocence; meanwhile, Harry was amazed at how Pim was able to be a tough yet fair authoritarian figure without being so brutal like the Dursleys were.

And so, a year after Harry came to the Tower of Pim, Harry decided about asking Pim something.

"Pim?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was wondering… I've been here for a year now, and I really haven't gone anywhere else other than this valley, let alone this tower and its grounds. So, I was wondering…"

"I am listening, Harry."

"Is it okay if I go to this zoo I've been to before? I remember one time when I was in school, we went there to learn about the animals… although I spent most of the time trying to learn new ways to avoid Dudley and his gang…"

Here, Pim noticed how some of the light in Harry's eyes seemed to dim a little as he recalled his horrid life with the Dursleys. Even though Harry was now a handsome and healthy ten-year-old boy, and a far cry from the terrified and malnourished nine-year-old boy which first came here, there was still that tiny vestige of painful memories from his old lifestyle.

"Anyway… is it acceptable if I go there? Just for the day."

Pim was thinking it over. Most of the time, Harry just stayed within the boundaries of the tower, even then within the tower itself. But aside from Pim's rule of where or where not to go, it was also because there was truly nowhere else which Harry wanted to go to, and was perfectly happy and content to stay within the Tower of Pim itself.

"Well," Pim said at last, "I was planning to inspect something about the tower today… I suppose you could call it a 'diagnostic.' So, if you truly want to go, you will have to be able to manage for a whole day, until around sunset. I could use my powers to magically transport you there via those small lights which you are so familiar with, but after that, the only way you could return home is with the Recaller."

"I understand," Harry nodded seriously.

"Very well, then. Make sure you have everything you need, including the Recaller, and come back down here."

Harry did as Pim suggested, and soon enough, he was ready to go.

"Stay safe, and have fun," Pim wished Harry by means of farewell as his avatar vanished.

"Thanks, Pim," Harry replied, knowing that Pim could still hear him.

Harry smiled to himself. Unseen, Pim also smiled.

It had been a good year after all.

* * *

A/N:Sorry, but it looks as though the Dursleys will finally be dealt with next chapter. I had to split it up between the two chapters because it was becoming too big.

**Regarding the chapter title… there was a chapter from _Kill Bill_ entitled "The Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei." I guess this chapter title might be a joke on that.**

I imagined Pim's robes to look like the kind of sandy robes worn by the Abydonians in the original _Stargate_ movie and subsequent _SG-1_ series, except maybe a little neater and more stylish.

I did the math… If Pim was about 20-25 years old in 5500 B.C., then he was born _circa_ 5520-5525 B.C., and since the year is currently 1990 A.D. and Pim was killed by Amu in 500 A.D., then he's been out of it for 1490 years.

The "elevator" in the Tower of Pim isn't the kind of normal elevator which moves up and down, but is more like the "elevators" in _Stargate__: Atlantis_ which teleport the occupants from one section of the city to another (first seen in the episode "Hide and Seek"). The word which I fabricated, _transcamera_… _camera_ is actually the Latin word for "chamber," while _trans_ means "across, through." A fitting name for a chamber which transports anything within it through levels of a tower?

I know that for the most part in Europe, the first floor is not the ground floor but the floor right above that. I decided to go with that in describing the tower's different levels.

The thing with a few of the floors being empty… I bet the readers didn't expect that, but then again, neither did I. I honestly thought I would have enough uses for them. (I wanted to make use of the number twelve for the tower's levels.)

Everything Harry said about the Alexander Mosaic is true, and it does exist. However, while it's debated whether it shows the Battle of Issus in 333 B.C. or the Battle of Gaugamela in 331 B.C. but more likely to be the former, I'm taking the liberty of making it so in this fic, it's definitely the Battle of Issus.

Pim's reference to the Bard, a.k.a. William Shakespeare, and how "a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," is of course a reference to _Romeo and Juliet_. However, that famous play about those "star-cross'd lovers" was heavily influenced by an ancient Babylonian myth known as _Pyramus__ and Thisbe_, which Ovid also wrote about in his _Metamorpheses_.

The thing with Mark Evans and his family just suddenly appearing and discussing the Dursleys… that actually just happened as I wrote it. (Maybe we'll see Mark again, I don't know.)

The word "avatar" has been used as far back as the 1980s to describe representations and images in computer and video games, so I figured it could make sense for Harry and Pim to begin using the word for describing Pim's image of himself. The word "avatar" itself is Sanskrit, and in Hindu philosophy, most commonly refers to the incarnation, or bodily manifestation, of a higher being.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this! You know what to do… _review!_

**_–Quillian_**

**(First posted: March 1, 2007)  
(Last edited: September 12, 2012)**


	4. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF DURSLEY

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**SPECIAL DISCLAIMER:** Apparently, there's also some kind "Feline Wizards" story by Diane Duane, with its own cat language. **I just wanted to point out that I've NEVER read them before, let alone heard of them prior to writing this story.** (If anything, my idea for a unique language for each animal species came from the rabbits in _Watership__ Down_ by Richard Adams.) However, I'm not going to try and come up with a completely new vocabulary, and things spoken in this Feline language will be translated and shown in underlined text for the reader's benefit.

**WARNING:** More domestic violence, and more Harry- and Dursley-bashing. _You've been warned._

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Three, "The Letters from No One."**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE  
THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF DURSLEY**

It had not been such a good year for the Dursleys.

After the rest of Little Whinging saw that the mighty and seemingly untouchable Dursleys could be dealt with, more people found the courage to speak up.

Young Dudley Dursley's classmates and teachers, both past and present, all reported incidents of bullying, and old incidents from as far back as four years ago were brought to light (some teachers and parents had been smart enough to keep photographic evidence). Now that the Dursleys didn't have the same weight to leverage on the school system, the headmistress and her colleagues had no problem with "fixing" the grades back to how they were before, so now Dudley had real incentive to work hard to keep those high grades. Even at school, Dudley's gang had abandoned him, as not to be plagued by the taint of Dudley's now-tarnished reputation; as a matter of fact, Dudley's former friends, especially Piers Polkiss, were now all trying their absolute best to turn over a new leaf and improve things with their classmates and teachers, after seeing what Dudley's behavior and actions had earned him. Soon enough, Dudley himself was now what he made his own cousin out to be: The social outcast. The teachers only stepped in every now and then to make sure that some act of vengeance didn't get out of control (they purposely didn't encourage the other students to try and get back at him, but at the same time, they didn't put too much effort into defending him, either).

Mrs. Petunia Dursley's neighbors spoke about her trying to peer over fences, bushes, or whatever separated property boundaries to see what they were doing. Because nothing could have been done about her nosiness at the time, they had had to resort to subtle countermeasures like growing taller hedges or installing taller fences. One family had even put hidden beehives in the hedges on their property, just in case Mrs. Dursley was ever tempted to actually cross over their property line to get a closer look.

Mr. Vernon Dursley's co-workers had reported incidents at work, ranging from bullying to harassment (Mr. Dursley had often yelled a lot at subordinate employees for no good reason, but just to yell at someone). There were those who had taken early retirement or left on health grounds, stressed from dealing with Mr. Dursley on a day-to-day basis. At least a dozen former employees who had been laid off in the past for no good reason, or sometimes for no reason at all, but whom Grunnings had settled with before an industrial tribunal could wash their dirty linen in public, brought forward their cases against Mr. Dursley; for example, one man had been sacked because he had missed a few days of work because he needed surgery, while one woman had been humiliatingly sacked in front of everyone because she couldn't meet Mr. Dursley's absurd demand of typing up a one-thousand-page report over the course of a single week, on top of everything else she had to do. A few other people claimed that Mr. Dursley had taken their hard work and passed it off has his own, while at other times taking his own unsatisfactory work and making it look like it was theirs. Several co-workers had even claimed that Mr. Dursley had harassed them in different ways in the past.

Miss Majorie Dursley was in trouble back in her home village, because new evidence had come to light about how she was a danger to both her own dogs and other villagers. She had purposely abused her own dogs to train them as vicious attack dogs to anyone apart from her or her own family and friends. On average, at least half a dozen people of all ages per year had been bitten or scratched by her dogs, ranging from small children to elderly citizens. The dogs themselves had been horribly abused in ways which made even the most experienced and brave-hearted people at the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (R.S.P.C.A.) cringe; a few had even died because they got aid too late, but the rest of them were fortunately healed back to health, and found better, loving families to go to.

However, when it came to the matter of young Harry Potter, nothing could be done about that. One neighbor had seen Harry run out the back and into bushes, but that was it; so now Harry Potter was listed as a missing runaway. Aside from countless testimonies by just as many countless people that he had been dressed in Dudley Dursley's castoffs, there was no concrete proof that he had been abused. When the police saw the sleeping area in the cupboard under the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley just barely managed to explain it away as a spare mattress which had been stored under there, and that the second room with all the old toys and other junk was indeed Harry's bedroom.

The Dursley family managed to avoid time in prison, but at a high price. The huge sums of money which would have been otherwise used for spoiling Dudley (especially for his birthday or Christmas) had to be used to pay off fines or bribe the less moral police and other law enforcement officials. When that wasn't enough, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were forced to sell off all of Dudley's old toys and other junk in the second bedroom, much to Dudley's horror, as expressed by his long complaints and tantrums. The most they got were fifty hours of community service each.

Majorie Dursley, however, was unable to successfully bribe her own local magistrate, and so she was sentenced to countless hours of community service. Vernon Dursley would have done more for his sister, but he had to worry more about his own family first, especially his lovely wife and precious son.

The Dursleys had often wished for a chance to live without their horrible nephew, Harry Potter… but as the old adage went, "Be careful what you wish for." They certainly lived without their nephew for a year, but some aspects about this new lifestyle almost made them wish at times that things went back to the way they were before, when the Potter boy still lived with them. Now that Harry Potter was no longer around to do most of the work around the house, that task fell to Mrs. Dursley and even her son, the latter of whom claimed that he was wasting away under the hard labor, when in fact he was getting healthy exercise. It took a month alone for Dudley to break the habit of saying things like "That's the freak's job" or "Make the freak get it." And since Harry Potter was no longer around to act as the scapegoat or stress relief outlet for whatever went wrong, all three Dursleys ended up bickering at each other for most of their arguments, resulting in fights which went so far out of control that more than once, the police had been called to the house by neighbors who complained about the noise. Mr. Dursley had to be careful around the workplace and keep his nose clean, especially since he didn't want to get into anymore trouble; even a year later, most of the claims against him were still going through, mostly because he was using the last of his bribery money to hold off the claims for as long as possible, and even that was running out fast. It looked as though Dudley might not be able to go Smeltings, Vernon's old private school, after all, and neither of his parents looked pleased at the thought that he might have to end up going to some local comprehensive like Stonewall.

The Dursleys also learned the hard way that they would have to really change their habits in order to avoid trouble. Vernon could no longer yell at people like he once used to just for the sake of doing so, Petunia could no longer go about spying on her neighbors, and even Dudley had to give up his beloved pastime of bullying other children. Dudley in particular was horrified that he would have to give up one of his biggest joys in life, but he was just barely smart enough to figure out that no more bullying others meant no more trouble for himself.

Wherever they went in Little Whinging, people would look at them, some less subtly than others. Outside of home, work and school, where their neighbors, co-workers, superiors, teachers and classmates had warned them not to try anything further, they were tolerated only just better by complete strangers who had heard about them.

Fortunately, today was now Dudley's birthday, and his mother and father all scrounged and saved to give him a simple yet beautiful necklace with a locket attached to it, which held a small picture of him with his parents.

"That's it?" Dudley screamed, getting ready to throw the necklace against the wall.

"Now, now, Duddikins," his mother said soothingly, catching Dudley's hand by the wrist before he could throw it. "Look at how _beautiful_ and _wonderful_ it is. That way, wherever you go, we'll always be with you."

"But I wanted _more_ this year," he whined.

"Dammit, boy!" his father yelled. "You're bloody lucky that you've gotten anything this year at all, so why don't you just shut your mouth and accept your gift like a good son? Anyone ever teach you manners before!?"

Dudley gulped; his father had been taking things out on him a lot more ever since his _freak_ of a cousin had disappeared a year before.

"What's more," his father continued ranting, "we have finally gotten all that stupid 'community service' behind us, the last thing we need is any more trouble…"

Mrs. Dursley tried to reassure her husband as best as she could. "Hush, Vernon, let's just go to the zoo and have a good time together as a family," she muttered soothingly to him.

Mr. Dursley's face then suddenly twisted to an unnatural smile (mainly because it was forced). "Yes, Pet, you're right, of course. Come on, Dudders, let's go to the zoo together…"

And so they all went to the zoo, especially before things got out of hand within their own household.

Soon enough, they arrived at the zoo in their car, which was just barely holding together without the long-overdue repairs which it needed.

In their effort to act normal, all three Dursleys ended up acting rather peculiar to anyone else who noticed them, because they acted so rigid and self-conscious; the truth was, they were trying their best to not give anyone a reason to come after them for being loud, obnoxious, nosy, or bullying. But as the day went on, they became more and more relaxed, and began feeling better as though everything else was becoming better.

But it was at the reptile house where things would begin to fall apart.

* * *

Harry appeared in a deserted alley only a few blocks from the zoo. He was dressed in jeans, trainers, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt with a hood over the normal shirt. Perfectly normal. 

_And now, hopefully, I will be able to talk out and about on a perfectly nice, Dursley-free day,_ Harry thought pleasantly.

With that thought in mind, he went to the zoo.

Harry had a system in mind, where he would take a minute or so at each exhibit, and then move on; he could always come back to them later. Not moving too quickly but not moving too slowly either, he went about from exhibit to exhibit, from house to house, observing the animals on exhibit within.

Soon enough, he found himself at the reptile house. He was taking a few minutes to observe the boa constrictor when he saw something happen.

Was it his imagination, or did the serpent just _wink_ at him?

Harry did a double take. He also realized about how, if this were a year ago, such strange and unusual things would have puzzled him.

Just then, a funny thought occurred to him. Well, it couldn't hurt just to see what happened, right?

_"Hello,"_ he said quietly.

_"Hello,"_ the boa constrictor hissed back.

Harry knew he just heard that. He also looked around the entire room, but saw that there was almost no one else around, and of what few people there were, none of them gave any indication that they heard anything at all, especially not from a boa constrictor who could apparently talk.

Turning back to the tank which the snake inhabited, he asked it, _"Where are you from?"_

Using the tip of his tail, the boa constrictor pointed out to the sign next to the tank, which read that its species came from Brazil.

_"Brazil, huh? Sounds like a nice place. What's it like there?"_

The boa constrictor stared at him for a moment before jabbing his tail at the sign again, this time a little more forcefully than before; taking another look at it, Harry saw it say that it was bred in the zoo.

_"Oh, my mistake,"_ Harry apologized to the serpent.

_"Do not worry about it, boy,"_ the boa constrictor said calmly. _"Although I would like to see Brazil sometime… I do not understand why I must be kept here all the time."_

Harry didn't quite know how to answer that one.

He was just about to say something else when he suddenly heard some voices from a small group of people entering the room. "See, Dudders, this is turning out to be a wonderful birthday after all," said a man's gruff voice, followed by a woman's voice saying, "Yes, ickle Duddykins, look at how nice this birthday is turning out without that nasty boy around…"

_Oh no,_ Harry thought miserably, _not them._

It was the Dursleys. A moment later, he realized something else: Today was Dudley's birthday. But then again, how was he supposed to know what their plans were for the day? What were the odds of them both going to the same zoo, anyway?

That old instinct to run away immediately returned to Harry; he just wanted to get out of here and put as much distance between himself and the Dursleys as possible.

But he didn't immediately run away, either; he just pretended to be another random person at the zoo, observing the animals in their respective exhibits.

_Just casually leave,_ he thought to himself. _You can leave here without any problems with them._

_"Well, I must be going,"_ he whispered to the boa constrictor. _"It was nice talking to you."_

It nodded approvingly and was just wishing him farewell when he suddenly heard his whale of a cousin speak up. "LOOK!" he yelled to his parents. "MUM! DAD! COME QUICK AND TAKE A LOOK AT THIS! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT THIS SNAKE IS DOING!"

Harry made to move out of the way, but to his great surprise, Dudley actually came along and pushed him aside! "Get out of the way, whoever you are," Dudley said as he pushed him; he decided to take advantage of the fact that no one else was around to see him, so he could bully people and push them around like he used to.

Just as Dudley was about to press his hands and face against the glass, Harry felt a spark of anger and indignation set off inside of him. A moment after Harry hit the floor, he heard Dudley scream in terror.

The glass which kept the boa constrictor in its exhibit had completely vanished. The second after that, Dudley fell through and into the exhibit itself.

_"Freedom!"_ the boa constrictor yelled excitedly, obviously not expecting an opportunity to escape like this, and not so soon, either. He quickly slithered over Dudley and out of the tank (although Dudley was screaming in terror and claiming that it was trying to crush him alive) while his parents looked on in horror.

_"Brazil, here I come,"_ the boa constrictor declared. _"Thanks, amigo."_

Harry smirked to himself as it slithered by him. _"Anytime,"_ he whispered back.

He managed to get back up on his feet just as Dudley was heaving his massive bulk back out of the boa constrictor exhibit.

"Wait a minute," Mrs. Dursley suddenly hissed. She then strode over and yanked the hood off of Harry's head.

There was a tense and horrible moment as all four of them present stared at each other; both parties involved had vivid and terrible memories of the other.

Harry just wanted to get out of there, but the Dursleys, on the other hand, were only too happy to try and take him back and punish him for what had happened to them.

"BOY!" Mr. Dursley thundered. "GET OVER HERE NOW!"

"Not a chance," Harry muttered. With that, he wrestled himself free of his aunt's grip and ran for the door.

If only he had watched where he was going as he tried to escape from the room…

* * *

Harry regained consciousness just as the Dursleys pulled into the driveway. As he regained consciousness, it all came back to him, and he quickly assessed the situation. 

_I can't believe I knocked myself out by running into a doorpost,_ he thought to himself.

"Get out, boy," his uncle snapped.

Deciding to go along with it, Harry did as he was told.

After they entered the house, Uncle Vernon forcefully grabbed Harry by the arm and swung him into the kitchen.

"Where have you been, boy!?" his uncle snarled; behind him, his aunt looked on worriedly, while his cousin had a look of anticipated glee on his face.

"I didn't know you cared so much," Harry drawled.

"WHAT WAS THAT, BOY?" Vernon yelled.

"You heard me," Harry said evenly.

"Where have you been?" Aunt Petunia said sternly, taking over for her husband who was already going red in the face. "We've been worried about you."

"For whose sake?" Harry replied just as coldly.

Mrs. Dursley took a moment to compose herself. For the first time, she was beginning to notice just how much Harry had grown in the past year, as if making up for all the abuse, neglect and malnutrition from previous years. He also had an aura of confidence about himself which he didn't have before, as though he didn't fear them anymore. Realizing that they could no longer intimidate him, she instead decided to try a different approach.

"For all our sakes, Harry," she said kindly.

Just hearing her speak kindly to him and refer to him by his first name was proof enough that she was lying, Harry decided.

"Now, where have you been all this time?" Aunt Petunia asked in a polite tone.

"Do you really expect me to tell you?" Harry said bluntly.

Taken aback, Aunt Petunia's kind attitude quickly vanished and became snappish again. "If you've gone to that headmaster at that school…"

"Who at where?" Harry said, sounding confused now. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

Aunt Petunia steeled herself, and forced herself to say that one word which she hated above all others in her household…

"I'm talking about that school for… _magic_," she said, almost hissing out the word between clenched teeth.

At this point, there was a heavy silence in the kitchen while Uncle Vernon looked outraged that she said that word at all, while Dudley looked even more bewildered and stupefied than ever before.

"School for magic?" Harry asked. "Sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

_"I'm talking about Headmaster Dumbledore at that school named Hogwarts!"_ Aunt Petunia yelled so suddenly that both her husband and son took a step back.

Harry looked unfazed, and just raised an eyebrow. "Like I said… I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he repeated calmly.

"Oh, if I know the way those people's minds work, you'll be getting your first acceptance letter a month or so from now… but not if _I_ have anything to say about it…"

But then something occurred to him. "Wait a minute… are you saying… you _knew_? You knew about magic, and that I was a wizard?"

"KNEW!" she screeched, beginning to unload on her nephew something which she had wanted to say all these years. "Of course we knew! How could you not be, with my dratted sister being what she was! She was a _freak_ and I was the only one who saw her for what she was! But no, my parents were always 'Lily this' and 'Lily that,' always fawning over her for those freakish things which she could do! Always coming home, turning harmless objects into disgusting animals and doing other freakish things and always showing off! And then she ran off with that awful Potter man, married him, had you with him, and then, just to top it all off, left you with us because she was stupid enough to get herself and your father MURDERED!"

Harry felt the blood drain from his face as his aunt ranted, but the final word seemed to reverberate in the air after it came out. _"Murdered?"_ he repeated hoarsely.

"You heard me," Aunt Petunia snapped, mimicking Harry's words from just earlier. "_Murdered._ As in got herself killed by someone else."

Taking this moment to twist the proverbial knife a little more, she also added, "And you know what else? That so-called 'benevolent' old man who was the Headmaster at your school actually left you on our doorstep in the middle of the night. Makes me wonder how much _your kind_ actually cares about you, for everything they say about you…"

Harry did his best to tune out their words, but at the same time, he felt his anger and his confusion slowly yet surely eating away at him.

"You're lying," he said flatly.

Aunt Petunia did a double take. "Excuse me?" she said rudely.

"You lied about magic existing and about what happened to my parents," Harry pointed out. "Why should I believe you now?"

His aunt didn't have an answer for that one.

"Look," she said at last, sounding exasperated, "We brought you back here because of the protection you have here. Something about living with blood relatives protecting you from anything harmful… don't ask me how it works, because I don't understand myself."

Harry couldn't help himself; he just had to laugh at that one. "Oh, very funny. Protection, as long as I stay with you, my relatives… _who have been harming me all these years_!" The last part did not include any laughter as he yelled it out loud in anger and disbelief.

"I don't see why you would bring me back here, apart from saving your own skins. And now, if you will excuse me… I'm leaving."

However, Aunt Petunia finally lost all of her patience with her nephew. As he made to walk past her, she lunged out at him and grabbing, yelling at him, "YOU STAY HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"

Harry immediately raised his hands and arms to defend himself, and immediately assuming that he was trying to strike at her, Aunt Petunia struck at her nephew first.

He yelled as she slapped him across his face. There was an awkward moment of silence where Harry looked stunned while the Dursleys were beginning to look horrified as to what he might do next.

Harry went from being shocked to downright angry. His aunt had never actually struck him before. That was the final straw. Now, he fixed the Dursleys with a furious glare which did little for their states of mind.

And then, the house began to rumble…

His aunt and uncle immediately panicked, and Uncle Vernon even yelled, "Dudley, do something, quick!"

"Vernon, NO!" Aunt Petunia shouted, terrified.

Dudley was more than happy to make this freak suffer for making his life miserable, or so he believed. Unfortunately for him, however, Harry was thinking the same thing, except more rightfully so. And on top of that, Dudley still hadn't learned from last year when Harry had punched him back.

He ran at Harry as fast as he could (making the house shake a little more with each step he took), and jumped, hoping to emulate those wrestlers he had seen on TV in order to squash Harry flat.

However, with a magical tactic which defied gravity and physics, Harry caught Dudley, and by exerting great amounts of power, both physical and magical, Harry then managed to toss Dudley back. His fat cousin screamed in terror as he flew back and landed right on top of the kitchen table, which easily broke under his immense weight.

Uncle Vernon and roared like a bull and grabbed Harry by his neck. "YOU DAMN FREAK!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED WITH YOUR PARENTS! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT AT AN ORPHANAGE! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT OUT IN A MISERABLE BACK ALLEY SOMEWHERE TO _DIE_!"

Each proclamation was accentuated with a blow to Harry, hitting him in the head, hitting him in the chest… and finally slamming him against the window, causing the glass to crack.

Harry was now filled with rage, and he defended himself against each blow as best as he could as he tried to summon his magic again…

A moment later, what felt like a strong electrical charge surged through his uncle. He shrieked with pain and stumbled back, leaning against the wall to support himself and try to recover.

Harry hadn't been trying to electrocute his uncle; that was accidental magic. However, he was grateful nonetheless, and now he made a beeline for the back door again, trying to escape like he did a year before, but his aunt cut him off. "Not this time!" she yelled. "You're not going to get away again and leave us behind! You're going to stay right here –"

He immediately reversed his direction and tried to escape for the front door instead, but his aunt grabbed him by the wrist and held him back as best as she could.

If it was possible, Harry became even angrier "DON'T – YOU – EVER – TOUCH – ME – AGAIN!" he shouted.

The next moment, Aunt Petunia's hand which was holding him back felt like it was burning. She yelped with pain as she quickly withdrew her hand, instinctively waving it as though to cool it off.

But the next moment, a kind of fiery red mist appeared before their eyes, connecting himself and Aunt Petunia… and then disappearing with a brief but blinding flash.

Neither of them knew it at the time, but that was the blood protection on the home being irreparably severed.

Harry was now in a full-blown rage, and it began to show…

The house began to shake even more now, and all the electrical devices in the house began to act sporadically, flickering on and off, or in some cases, electrical clocks spitting out random times or television sets jumping to random channels. Anything not bolted down or otherwise connected to the surface it touched began to jump, shake and rattle.

The entire house and its family were now at his mercy.

The next moment, Harry let out a scream of pent-up rage as he remembered all the years of suffering which his horrible relatives had put him through… and as if to emphasize his point…

Light bulbs blew and exploded. Electrical appliances exploded outwards with small showers of sparks. Glass windows and other glass surfaced cracked and shattered, falling apart. Cracks ran up and down walls and across floors and ceilings in crooked lines. Clocks, pictures, and other things attached to the walls fell off and broke on contact as they hit the ground. The oven actually burst into flame. Walls groaned as they became supported.

And all three Dursleys cowered in a corner, trembling and holding each other for safety, praying to whatever deity would listen to protect them.

Now beyond reason, Harry focused fully on the Dursleys, with a furious look on his face and a blazing light in his emerald green eyes. _Lily's eyes,_ Aunt Petunia thought to herself as she looked into them, unable to look away.

A smoking fireball appeared in Harry's hand, and he aimed at the Dursleys with his outstretched arm. He remembered all the years of suffering they put him through… all the anger, pain, fear, and humiliation he felt… his every waking moment a living nightmare…

He now had the chance to put an end to it, to make them pay for everything they had done to him. He could finish them off right now, and no one would ever know, or even suspect, that it was him. He could do the world a favor by ridding it of these three miserable, wretched excuses for human life…

The seconds lengthened, during which there was silence except for the creaking sounds in the house and the sizzling sounds of the still-held fireball in Harry's hand. The Dursleys were still shaking with fear, anticipating the final blow which would send them to kingdom come, while Harry was still standing there, wondering why he hadn't blasted them into oblivion yet.

But as Harry looked at them, cowering in the corner, powerless and helpless, he remembered something else. He remembered all the times it had been _himself_ in the corner, fearing for his own life…

He couldn't do it.

No matter how much they hated him, no matter how much they harmed him, he still couldn't kill them. The only times he had ever used magic against them were just now and a year ago, when he had just been trying to defend himself.

Was this the power they enjoyed so much? The power to reduce a proud, intelligent human being into a pleading, panicked creature? Yes, they had been absolutely abominable to him… but could he use that as justification for killing them, and so horrifically?

No.

His anger receding and reason taking its place, he discharged the energy being put into making the fireball still forming in his hand; it vanished in a small cloud of gray smoke.

However, while his face no longer bore that furious look, it was still hardened.

"I'm not going to do anything else to you," Harry said coldly. "But I don't have to help you, either."

"What now?" his aunt sneered. "Don't want to convince us that magic isn't all bad after all?"

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing can change your mind about magic, because you have it so firmly etched into your minds that magic is responsible for everything wrong in the world that nothing can convince you otherwise. But then again… as far as I'm concerned, you don't need magic to be evil, or to ruin your own lives."

With one last hard gaze as a final farewell, he reached into his pocket to get something, pulled it out while gripping it tightly, and disappeared in a flash of light, never to return to Number Four, Privet Drive, ever again.

There was a painful silence while all three Dursleys contemplated everything they had just been through. Petunia Dursley flinched and shuddered in spite of herself; she could not get the image of her head, of those green eyes glaring at her… Lily's eyes, which Harry had inherited… almost as if Lily herself had somehow seen everything which had been done to her son.

However, she was snapped out of her thoughts by a snapping sound, followed by a hissing sound.

"Gas!" she screamed. "We need to get out, quickly!" While it would later be determined that it was only water vapor which was responsible for that, the Dursleys didn't want to take any chances.

All three of them fled the house…

…Only to run straight into the small fleet of police cars parked on the street outside.

Before anyone could say anything, however, the rumbling began to act up again, and everyone turned around to see the Dursleys' house meet its fate. With an almighty groaning sound, almost like a dying cry, the roof caved in, and the first floor of the house collapsed on top of the ground floor, and then the ground floor collapsed to the ground. A plume of dust and smoke rose up into the air. Number Four, Privet Drive was no more.

The Dursleys looked horrified at what happened to their home and all of their remaining worldly possessions left inside, while the neighbors looked concerned, but only because of the safety of their own homes from the debris.

Just then, the police inspector cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "I was called here because of a disturbance," he told Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.

"You came too late," Mr. Dursley said gruffly. "That… that _brat_ got away!"

The inspector raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'd say I got here just in time. You see… one of your neighbors witnessed you bodily lifting your nephew and throwing him against the window. That same neighbor even has _photographic proof_ of you doing that."

"WHAT?" Mr. Dursley roared. "That _freak_ destroys our house and our home, and you come after _us_!?"

"How could a small boy, only ten years old, destroy your house like that?" the inspector asked loudly enough for everyone else to hear.

The Dursleys were just bursting to say how it was _magic_ which enabled the boy to destroy their home, but then they realized something: _Everybody else would not believe them._ Now how were they going to explain themselves and justify how they treated the boy?

"Vernon Dursley, Petunia Dursley," the police inspector announced, as a half-dozen other policemen moved forward. "You're under arrest…"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore made it as fast as he could to Privet Drive. He would have come sooner, but for the past hour, he had been stuck in a Wizengamot meeting, listening to candidates jockeying for the position of Minister of Magic after the incumbent had announced his upcoming retirement. That in itself wouldn't have been so boring, nor have taken very long, but the last candidate, one Cornelius Fudge, had been the most tedious of all. He was the kind of man to use a hundred words to say something when ten words would have sufficed, or take ten minutes to say something when one minute would have been long enough. 

Just a moment after Fudge began speaking, a small, silvery device in Dumbledore's robes began to vibrate a little; one of the many devices from his office, he had keyed it to detect whenever Harry Potter might be located. According to it, Harry and the Dursleys were now back in the same vicinity.

The last year had been stressful and tenuous for the great Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Out of concern, not so much for his own sake, but for not sending the Wizarding World into an uproar over the disappearance of Harry Potter, he had taken great pains to make sure that no news of it reached the magical world. He had even resorted to bribing the head of the _Daily Prophet_ (who was an old student of his) to not print anything about it in the newspaper.

Fortunately, people in and around Little Whinging talked less about the case of young Harry Potter and more about the Dursleys' other deeds as time went on. Dumbledore took advantage of every moment he had to try and find Harry Potter. But wherever the Boy Who Lived was, he was somehow being magically shielded so that he could not be detected by modern magical means.

As the old saying went, "a watched pot does not boil," and so Dumbledore very well could not keep himself cooped up in his office around the clock, just waiting for some news to come in just so he could find Harry Potter. However, he did keep that silvery device on him, just in case.

Dumbledore personally thought he was doing a good job at acting as though nothing was amiss as he did his job as Headmaster at Hogwarts, but from time to time, the professors, students, and ghosts alike all noticed him act urgent, stressed, and even a little twitchy.

So now, as Fudge was droning on and on about the things he would fix and accomplish for the Wizarding community in Britain, Dumbledore had no choice but to sit there and listen to the portly man go on.

But many minutes later, the same device was telling him that Harry was now back at his relatives' house at Privet Drive. Dumbledore wondered what happened… perhaps they just happened to manage to run into each other somewhere, and now Harry went back with them? But then Dumbledore realized that Harry may not have gone with them all that peacefully…

Finally, many more minutes later, it was over, and everyone was allowed to leave. Dumbledore walked casually out of the room through the special entrance for Wizengamot members, and it was only after he Flooed back to Hogwarts that he really hurried.

Dumbledore only went back to Hogwarts in the first place so no one would suspect him of having to go to a seemingly insignificant Muggle neighborhood for any reason. Passing his Deputy Headmistress in the hall, he quickly told her in passing that he would be busy in his office for a while and not to be disturbed.

Once back in his office, Dumbledore took out that special Portkey again, and like a year before, went to Privet Drive.

Dumbledore arrived there invisible and unheard, but he nearly gave himself away with a stifled exclamation of surprise after seeing Number Four… or what was left of it.

From what he heard from the crowd of neighbors surrounding it, Dumbledore learned that the Dursleys had finally been arrested for a multitude of different allegations, and only now were the police trying to make those charges of child abuse stick. The general tone of all the gossip and chatter was one of excitement and relief, as though a victory had been accomplished today against the malicious Dursleys.

Having stayed in one place for long enough, Dumbledore made his way to Mrs. Figg's house.

He subtly knocked on the door, and a moment later, the old lady opened it.

"Arabella," he whispered.

"Albus!" she hissed. "Quickly, get inside!"

Dumbledore swiftly squeezed through the half-open door and into Mrs. Figg's house. Looking around, he could see at least a dozen different cats scampering and running around.

After he dispelled the invisibility around himself, the cats all turned to look at him. A tabby cat with a collar which read "STRIDER" on it leapt up onto the counter closest to Dumbledore and said something to him in the Feline language.

"You fool!" he hissed to Dumbledore. "How could you have ever left him with those horrible people in the first place?"

"My knowledge of the 'Feline' language is a bit rusty, but I believe Strider was asking why you ever left that boy with those horrible people in the first place," Mrs. Figg said.

"They were his only relatives, and I also had to consider the blood protection provided by his mother's sacrifice," Dumbledore explained. "If I had known about how they would have treated him…"

"If you had known… would you have done it anyway?"

"Are you insinuating that I wouldn't have cared either way?" Dumbledore asked, starting to sound a little impatient. The insinuation that he didn't care about Harry Potter other than for his importance truly cut at him.

Instinctively, Mrs. Figg's other cats all glared at Dumbledore and came rushing over to her. They all gathered at her feet like many little sphinxes and looked up at Dumbledore with unwavering gazes, as though letting him know where they all stood on the issue and with whom.

"Just between you and me, Arabella… I would have adopted him myself, if I could, but I had my practical reasons for not doing that. It would have been hard for me to raise him, even secretly, at Hogwarts. And when people found out, one way or another, that I was raising him, there would have been accusations of me using him for my own gain and teaching him as I saw fit. I also did not want Harry to be raised by families in the Wizarding world who might spoil him or exploit him. As much as I hate to say it, the Dursleys were the only viable option."

As Dumbledore was saying this, he was sounding more and more frustrated, as though he were trying to justify his actions to Mrs. Figg in some sort of confession. Mrs. Figg continued to stand there with her arms crossed over her chest and her cats not moving an inch.

"I could have raised him better than those wastes of human life, Albus," Mrs. Figg said.

"I would die for Harry if I had to," Dumbledore told her. "That alone should give you some idea about how much I care about him."

By now, Mrs. Figg could see the sincerity and sadness in Dumbledore's eyes – something she had almost never seen before.

She sighed. "I don't doubt the honesty of your intentions, Albus. But that doesn't mean I can't be upset over what happened because of your decision."

Dumbledore nodded and was about to say something else when suddenly a new cat rushed in. A young, beautiful Japanese bobtail rushed in, mewing something nonstop along the way as she jumped up onto the counter next to Strider and kept mewing, trying to tell Mrs. Figg something while Strider tried to calm her down.

"I just came back from the ruins of the house!" she cried horrified in her otherwise beautiful feline voice. "You would not believe what I found! It was so horrible!"

"Please calm down, Yomiko," Strider said soothingly to her. "Please tell Arabella what has happened. We're all concerned about what happened to Harry."

"Thank you, Strider. I'll try…" After she composed herself, Yomiko told her mistress, "Harry wrote something in the cupboard under the stairs! It was horrible!"

Mrs. Figg began to look more and more worried as she began to decipher what this cat was saying. Speaking to Dumbledore while still focusing on her cat, she said, "Yomiko says… Harry… _wrote_ something… in the _cupboard under the stairs_…"

"How are you able to understand what they're saying?" Dumbledore asked, politely interested and amazed at the same time.

"I figured out ways of communicating with them," Mrs. Figg said casually. Over the past year, she communicated with her cats by saying words aloud and having the cats repeat those words in their Feline language, and then recording them with a tape recorder; sometimes, she would also do things like point to certain objects to learn nouns or adjectives and mimic certain actions to learn verbs.

Yomiko went on. "It said 'HELP ME' in big letters on the wall!"

"According to Yomiko," Mrs. Figg continued, "He wrote something on the wall… something about help…"

"She can read?" Dumbledore asked again in the same combined mixture of interest and amazement.

"Yeah, she's a good reader," Mrs. Figg said with a touch of pride.

"But there was more!" Yomiko continued urgently. "There was a bed, blanket and pillow in there… it was as though he slept in there!"

Mrs. Figg went pale as she translated that. "Yomiko says… that there was a bed, blanket and pillow under there… as if he _slept_ there!"

Dumbledore himself nearly went as white as his beard.

"And there was also an envelope filled with paper hidden under the bed!" Yomiko added.

"There was also… an envelope under the bed… with something in it," Mrs. Figg concluded.

"How could they do such a thing!?" Yomiko wailed. "Harry never did anything wrong! How could those people be so cruel to a youngster like that? Especially their own relative!"

Soon enough, all the other cats were meowing, snarling, and hissing, each of them giving a piece of their mind for everyone else to hear.

A fluffy gray Persian named Bigwig hissed, "Those Dursleys need to be punished severely!"

A spotted Egyptian Mau cat named Horace snarled, "Those awful people deserve to be driven to a cold, dark place where the sun doesn't shine!"

A Manx cat named Illiam yowled, "If given the chance, I would rip them from limb to limb myself!"

"I cannot stand this anymore!" Yomiko cried, and with that, she leapt off the counter, landed on the floor, and ran out of the house.

"Yomiko, wait!" Strider yelled, chasing after her.

After that outburst and the two cats' departure, the remaining cats and their mistress all looked back at Dumbledore, each of them distinctly unhappy and angry with the situation.

"I'll go take a look at what your cat claims to have found in the wreckage," Dumbledore said quietly. And with that, he became invisible again and swept out the door.

At the wreckage of Number Four, Privet Drive, Dumbledore carefully sorted through the rubble as not to disturb it; after all, Muggle police and forensic teams would be examining it tomorrow. It was now getting dark, with sunset almost over, as the wizard carefully sorted through the rubble to where the cupboard was, wearing gloves as not to leave fingerprints.

Of all the rooms in the house, the cupboard probably stayed the most intact. On an unbroken wall, Dumbledore could see two words, heavily drawn in black crayon…

**HELP ME**

Dumbledore felt a cold pass over him and chill him to the bone, even though it was still perfectly warm.

Looking under the bed, Dumbledore saw the envelope which Yomiko the cat spoke of. Opening it, the looked at the letter inside and read it, horrified.

_My name is Harry Potter. I do not know my parents' names or what they ever looked like. All I know is that they supposedly died in a car crash, which is where I got this weird scar. I would ask more, except I'm not allowed to ask questions. I'm forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs because the second bedroom has to be used to store all of Dudley's old junk. I never get any new clothes, only Dudley's castoffs. I never get anything for birthdays or Christmas, except maybe the occasional dirty sock. I'm forced to cook all the food, although I'm hardly allowed to eat anything. I'm not allowed to have any friends, because Dudley makes sure of that. Except for Dudley constantly bullying me, they've never hurt me physically, but they prefer to verbally hurt me. I'm not the Dursleys' relative, but more like their slave. I want to get out of here so badly, but I have nowhere else to go, and I doubt anyone would want me. I've always dreamed about some sort of unknown relative coming to take me away, but as the years went by and no one showed up, I began to hope for that less and less. I hope maybe someone finds this someday, so they know the truth, and not whatever lies the Dursleys tell them. I hope maybe, just maybe, I can get out of here some day… if I can live that long. Now I have to go, because the Dursleys want me to do something for them again._

Dumbledore could not stop tears from running down his face. He kept thinking to himself, _what had he done?_

Deep down, he hoped that Petunia Dursley would be able to overcome her feelings for her sister, and that her family would accept him. Instead, she and her family ended up hurting and punishing the boy just for being in their presence.

True, the Dursleys had never _physically_ hurt Harry – otherwise the wards would have gone off and Dumbledore would have known about it – but he had obviously never considered verbal, emotional or mental abuse.

Just what sort of hell had he condemned Harry to for all these years?

_I'M SO SORRY, HARRY!_

Just then, Dumbledore heard a Muggle car pass by, and deciding that he had spent enough time there, he quickly and quietly made his way back to Mrs. Figg's house.

Mrs. Figg was waiting for him, with her arms folded across her chest. "Well, Dumbledore, do you believe me now?" she said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly, conceding defeat on the topic.

"I remember a few times, during Harry's first years of having to live with them, I came to you, telling you about how badly they treated him – especially that abhorrent cousin of his. You just shrugged it off, saying that it might have been just some rivalry between the children, and then reiterating how much Harry Potter just _needed_ to stay with his blood relatives. And now, thanks to your _wisdom_, Harry is missing somewhere and the Dursleys have been arrested."

Dumbledore didn't even try to defend himself as Mrs. Figg built up a head of steam.

"However, now that the truth about the Dursleys and how they treated Harry is finally coming out… you can help me do something about it. Excuse me for a moment."

With that, she left the room for her own bedroom to get something. Dumbledore just stood there, waiting for her while her cats all continued to watch him.

When she returned a few minutes later, she was carrying a big, thick yellow envelope. "Here, take this. I don't know, anonymously drop it off at the police station or something. But you may want to look through it yourself first."

Still wearing his gloves which stopped him from leaving his fingerprints anywhere, Dumbledore opened up the envelope and saw the photographs inside. He was horrified at what he saw. There were images of Harry being pushed around and such by his uncle, aunt and cousin alike, being forced to wear oversized castoffs from his fat cousin, forced to do chores around the house…

However, Dumbledore then noticed something else. "How did you manage to take these photographs?" he asked her.

"It's amazing what you can do with a photographic camera, an Invisibility Cloak, and lots of time on your hands," Mrs. Figg said smugly. "Besides, you did tell me to watch out for him."

Dumbledore wanted to ask her exactly where she got an Invisibility Cloak, but he reasoned that maybe she owned one herself, or maybe she borrowed it from someone she knew, or something else. Either way, he knew he was in no position to ask.

"Thank you, Arabella," he said as he put all the photographs away and back in their proper place in the envelope. "I will make sure that the police get these."

Mrs. Figg nodded and said, "Good-bye, Headmaster." Clearly, she didn't want to speak to him anymore, at least not tonight. Dumbledore respected her wishes, bade her farewell, and left.

* * *

For an entire day after his trip to the zoo, Harry didn't say a word to Pim unless he was asked something. For the most part, he just kept to himself. 

It was two entire days after Harry's trip to the zoo when Pim decided that enough was enough, and spoke to his ward.

"Harry, please, speak to me," Pim said at last. "What happened?"

"The Dursleys," Harry muttered, sitting on his bed and thinking to himself.

Pim was instantly alert. "Why, what happened?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "I forgot it was Dudley's birthday. They just happened to be at the same zoo where I went."

"And? What happened?"

Harry remembered somehow being able to _communicate_ with the boa constrictor, but didn't think it was worth mentioning. "I was looking this boa constrictor, and without realizing who I was, Dudley pushed me out of the way against the glass to get a better look. My magic must have accidentally gone off then, because then the glass which kept the snake in its exhibit just vanished."

"Were you hurt?" Pim asked seriously.

"No, I was fine, really. My magic must have protected me somehow. Anyway, the boa constrictor used it as a chance to escape, while Dudley swore it was trying to eat him alive or something. During the chaos, I tried to get out of there before anything else happened, but then my hood fell down and my aunt and uncle saw me. They tried to snatch me back for whatever reason, but as I was trying to get away, I ran straight into a doorpost and fell unconscious."

Once Harry began talking, it somehow became easier from there.

"What happened next?" Pim gently prompted him.

"I regained consciousness in the car just as they were returning home. For whatever reason, they decided to try and snatch me back." After a moment, Harry gave another round of bitter laughter and added, "I guess a year without their slave and whipping boy took its toll on them."

"Don't talk like that," Pim said, not happy with Harry's self-deprecating words.

"Sorry, Pim. Anyway, what happened next… oh, where do I begin?"

"Would it be easier if I just used my magic to see it through your memories?" Pim suggested.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "If you want."

He just kept looking out ahead the whole time, and didn't even blink as that silvery-white mist came up around him…

Pim saw everything, from his aunt's ranting about his mother to where he magically trashed their house in a fit of rage after she slapped him in the face.

Pim mentally cursed at everything that happened while he was undergoing that "diagnostic," and how he was not able to protect Harry that time. But then he also remembered something else… exactly what had Harry done, or nearly done, to the Dursleys.

"Harry," Pim said delicately, "That fireball thing… exactly what was that?"

"I honestly don't know," Harry said. "I just remember being angry… _furious_… and before I knew it, everything around me was breaking, the Dursleys were cowering in a corner, and I was holding a fireball in my hand… I was inches away from doing something to them…"

Harry heaved a sob. "I could have killed them," he said sorrowfully. "Yes, I _hated_ them, and they were _horrible_ to me… but I don't want to _kill_ them…"

"Harry… you demonstrated a lot of self-control and restraint that day. You showed that you would not sacrifice your morals for the sake of revenge. You have clearly learned more from me in this past year, other than just how to use some magic."

Harry looked up for the first time, and he looked to Pim, taking in and understanding what he had to say.

"By the way… do you have any idea how you managed to do that?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sorry." After a moment, he then added, "Actually, I tried to see if I could do that again… you know, conjure up a fireball without using a staff… but I couldn't do _anything_ without a staff. I didn't try to make myself angry again to try and copy how I was feeling the other day, because I didn't want to make myself angry like that again."

"Very wise decisions, Harry," Pim said comfortingly. "What do you say we try to put what happened behind us?"

"Sure," Harry said quietly. With that, he got up and went to go get something to eat.

_Harry really is a wonderful boy,_ Pim happily thought to himself. _His relatives must have been the biggest fools in the world for not seeing that themselves._

* * *

It took about a year, but Fate finally caught up with the Dursleys and gave them what they so richly deserved. It was nine months until the trial took place, which Vernon Dursley spent in prison on remand, Petunia Dursley under close medical supervision, and Dudley in the care of their local council's social services. After that, the trial in itself took nearly three entire months, as there were lots of charges and lots more witnesses with things to say. 

The trial in itself was quite a spectacle, with people either exasperated that such a thing should have to be done or entertained at how the horrible Dursley family went down for their crimes.

The Dursleys did their absolute best to get themselves acquitted of as many charges as possible, but the true _coup de grace_ was the new charge of child abuse and neglect which was coming in.

First of all, teams going through the wreckage found young Harry Potter's "HELP ME" graffiti in big, bold letters from black crayon. Next, there was also the letter under the bed, which forensics experts estimated was written years ago, when Harry was only five or six years old; it was dated "April 1987," and so there was some speculation to determine if young Harry Potter had really written it or not, but fortunately, forensics helped prove that. Finally, there was the big, thick envelope of photographs showing how the Dursleys treated Harry, sent in by an anonymous person with a note attached. It read: _I tried a few times to get someone to find out about the way the Dursleys treated their ward, Harry Potter, but nothing ever happened. I did whatever I could, and hopefully this shows. I hope that at least some good will come out of my efforts._

One interesting detail, however, was the lack of Harry Potter himself. He was in the house when it collapsed, and yet as crews went through the rubble, there was no sign of him, living or dead; there was no sign that he survived, and yet there was no sign that he was killed, either. With no proof whatsoever that he was killed, they were forced to list him as a missing person.

The Dursleys claimed quite loudly that this was all a conspiracy against them, and they were a decent, hardworking family with a gentle young son who wouldn't hurt a fly and had no choice but to take in an ungrateful brat who made up lies about them, but everyone saw through their lies and nonsense.

As the trial went on and on, and witness after witness came in to testify about how each member of the Dursley family harassed other people and mistreated their own nephew. Finally, there was a falling out as Mr. Dursley roughly grabbed his solicitor to do something to get him out of this mess, claiming that they shouldn't have to go to prison just because they "toughly disciplined their ungrateful nephew." Unfortunately for them, that would be the final tactical error which they would ever be making for a long time, because after the court ushers and police in the courtroom helped rescue the solicitor from Mr. Dursley's grip, the solicitor smoothed himself out and angrily informed the Dursleys that he himself knew someone who had been abused and neglected as a child, and he was sorry for the day he ever met the Dursleys; and with that, he briskly strode out of the courtroom without looking back, leaving the abominable family to their fate.

Vernon Dursley was put away in prison for decades on various charges, not just for various kinds of harassment, but also for fraud and embezzlement, and to top it all off, child abuse and neglect, as well as failing to meet the order to produce his nephew before the court. The charge of contempt for his action in court would lie on his file. Unless he did something to drastically improve his health, he would most likely die in prison before being released.

Petunia Dursley was also found guilty of child abuse and neglect, but she was instead committed to remain in a mental hospital instead of prison, largely because of the interesting report which came back from the psychological evaluations done for her.

It made for quite an interesting case: Apparently, she harbored some sort of years-old jealously for her younger sister, the late Lily Potter née Evans, because Lily got an invitation to some kind of special boarding school and she didn't, and yet Mrs. Dursley absolutely refused to give any sort of details about this school, let alone its name. She made constant references to "they" or "them" or "those people," whom her deceased sister was supposedly one of, but again, divulged no details about. Mrs. Dursley also claimed that Lily Potter died because "she got herself killed" defending her son, and so "her crowd" left one-year-old Harry Potter on her doorstep in the middle of the night in early November, 1981, with "demands" in a letter that they take care of him, and would know if anything happened to him. (However, Mrs. Dursley also claimed to have destroyed the letter years ago, unfortunately for her.) Mrs. Dursley also made no small secret about how she hated her "freak" of a nephew with a passion, and claimed that "she had no sister."

Dudley Dursley was shown to the entire community to be the meanest and most spoiled boy around, who did whatever he could to get what he wanted and showed no remorse for how he hurt other people around him, physically or otherwise. A little pity was shown towards the boy: To themselves, people realized that if it hadn't been for his outrageous parents, the boy could have been a true young gentleman, and not a bullying nightmare to the rest of the community. However, the reality of it was, he was quite possibly spoiled and badly raised beyond repair. The judge had no choice but to send him to St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Insane Criminal Boys.

After they were all put away in their respective facilities, the inhabitants of Little Whinging all celebrated privately, although some of them were not as discrete about it as others. But at the same time, they also wished they could find and talk to young Harry Potter, not just to thank him for helping to bring down the Dursleys, but also to apologize to him for not being able to help him, and to show him how much they really did care…

As they witnessed their own fates being sealed, all three Dursleys wondered if maybe, just _maybe_, Harry Potter wouldn't have hated them so much if only they had treated him nicely, and not acted so determined as though magic didn't exist.

Either way, it was too late for that now.

But for the most part, they just persisted in blaming that "freak" of a boy for coming into their lives.

Years later, when Dudley Dursley finally got at least some sense of right and wrong in the world, not to mention responsibility, he was allowed to see and get back the only thing he got as a birthday present that day when the _freak_, as he still called his cousin, ruined his life: The locket with the image of himself and his parents. Looking back on it, he was so glad that he had it, because he hadn't seen his parents in years, and he didn't know if he ever would again.

* * *

A couple of nights after Petunia Dursley was first committed to the mental hospital, a lone figure quickly and quietly stepped out of the shadows, not making a sound as he crept through the hallways of the facility where she was kept. 

Albus Dumbledore just had to know what had happened that day when the Dursleys and Harry encountered each other again. Harry had to have done something in order to make the house collapse like that.

He used his magic to unlock the door to Mrs. Dursley's cell, enter, and seal it again behind him. He gently walked over to where she was sleeping uneasily on her bed in her pyjamas.

Hating himself for what he was about to do, Dumbledore pointed his wand at her and whispered, _"Legilimens."_

After a quick search through her recent memories, he found what happened on that day. He watched as they encountered each other at the zoo… how she brought him back to Privet Drive… how she finally snapped and ranted about her sister Lily… how she actually slapped Harry… how Harry finally lost his patience and began his rampage with his magical outburst… how Harry came so close to actually killing the Dursleys themselves… and finally, how Harry vanished and the Dursleys fled from the house just before it collapsed.

Dumbledore was stupefied by what he had just witnessed through Petunia's memories. As he withdrew from her mind, he was thinking furiously to himself. Exactly how had Harry done that? Had he somehow learned about magic on his own, or did he learn about it from someone else? And just how did Harry become so powerful in the first place?

Dumbledore was also contemplating Harry's self-control and restraint in _not_ intentionally harming the Dursleys when suddenly, Mrs. Dursley began to stir in her sleep.

"No… please, no… don't… I'm sorry, really, I am… Lily, _no_…"

Dumbledore was just deciding what to do next when he heard an orderly's footsteps coming down the hall.

With one last very cold look of loathing at Petunia Dursley, Dumbledore quietly Disapparated from her room just before the orderly arrived.

He Apparated to the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. It was practically empty except for the bartender himself, and some shady-looking person rummaging through a leather pouch, whom he suspected was Mundungus Fletcher.

"A shot of firewhiskey, please," Dumbledore said to the bartender.

The bartender looked at him suspiciously for a moment, as though silently questioning why Dumbledore would want firewhiskey in the middle of the night, but acquiesced without any problems.

_I really have done it this time,_ Dumbledore thought to himself miserably. _All I wanted was to protect Harry, and instead I ended up doing the exact opposite, by letting his relatives torment him. My hopes that Petunia and her family could overcome whatever happened between them and Harry's parents… it wasn't a _dream_, it was a _delusion_. An old man's delusion. Maybe I really am becoming ineffective in my decisions…_

But if he gave up now, what would happen then? For him, for the rest of the world, and for everything which he had fought for?

_I _will_ fix this,_ Dumbledore silently vowed to himself. _One way or another, I _will_ set things straight._

* * *

A/N: Personally, I like how this chapter turned out. 

**Regarding the chapter title… it's a nod to the story "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe. It just seemed appropriate, as well as fitting.**

I had Harry go to the zoo in order to find out that he could communicate with snakes (what with the Parseltongue thing). On top of that, I also had him run into the Dursleys again in order to justly and completely ruin their lives with that figurative one-two punch I mentioned; first I let them suffer for a year, then I deliver the _coup de grace_ to finish them off.

Regarding Mrs. Figg's other cats… The Japanese bobtail's name "Yomiko" is an actual name, and comes from the Japanese word meaning "to read." "Bigwig" seemed appropriate for a fluffy Persian (coincidentally, it was also the name of one of the rabbits in _Watership__ Down_). The name of the Mau cat "Horace" is something of a joke; _Horace_ was a famous Roman playwright, but it also sounds much like the name of the Egyptian deity _Horus_. "Illiam" is the Manx form of "William," which in turn comes from the Germanic name _Wilhelm_, which was composed of _wil_ ("will, desire"), and _helm_ ("helmet, protection").

My beta-reader/Brit-picker **Coulsdon**** Eagle** supplied me with information about the British judicial system (whose "wheels of justice grind exceedingly slow"), which helped me figure out what to do with the Dursleys.

I felt a little bad about sending Petunia to a mental institution for being assumed crazy for her talk about magic and her nephew having magical powers, when we know she was telling the truth… but then again, she definitely was crazy, especially if she thought that she could abuse and neglect Harry like that for years and get away with it!

_You know what to do… review!_

**_–Quillian_**

**(First posted: March 9, 2007)  
(Last edited: August 22, 2007)**


	5. AFTERSHOCKS

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've decided to make it so that the other animals have their own languages (cats have Feline, owls have Strigine, dogs have Canine, etc.). However, Parseltongue speech will be shown in _italics_ while speech in the other "languages" will be shown in underlined text. Also, I'll do my best to provide accurate writing for the accents of certain characters, such as Hagrid for example, but no promises there, so please bear with me if I don't get them entirely correct.

**WARNING:** Frequent use of the word "hell" at one point, but used to describe the place itself, and not used as a curse word.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Four, "Keeper of the Keys."**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR  
AFTERSHOCKS**

Dumbledore and Harry faced each other in the ruins of Number Four, Privet Drive, armed with their wands. The bodies of the three Dursleys lay off to one side, their eyes open and staring out blankly; they were dead.

"You left me with those monsters!" Harry yelled at Dumbledore, his handsome face contorted in rage and his brilliant eyes blazing. "What in blazes were you thinking, leaving me with them!?"

"They were your only blood relatives, Harry," Dumbledore said, trying to placate him. "They were the only viable option I could find for you… I couldn't find any other relatives on either side of your family…"

"No other relatives? Then what about friends of the family?" Harry retorted.

"Some were dead, and others were incapable of raising you," Dumbledore explained, without getting into specifics.

"And there was _no one_ in the Wizarding world who could take proper care of me?" Harry said dubiously.

"There were still people loyal to Voldemort who wanted to harm you or worse, people who would have wanted to exploit you for their own gains, people who would have ended up spoiling you even though they wanted to raise you with the best of intentions… believe me, if there were other alternatives, I would have sought them out!"

"Lies!" Harry yelled. "Surely you could have thought of _something_ instead of leaving me with them! Besides, haven't you read the newspapers lately? The newspapers have been calling them all kinds of things lately, such as 'The Evil Family!' There's even been talk of starting an annual 'Worst Family of the Year' award, and making them the first!"

"Their shortcomings aside, Harry…"

"For how much you claim to have cared about me, you didn't even send someone by to check up on me at least once! But I wonder… even if someone did have something bad to say about it, would you really have done anything?"

Not waiting for Dumbledore to answer, Harry pressed on, "And what's this nonsense about 'blood protection'? Exactly what was it supposed to protect me from?"

"From the evil forces which would want to harm you, of course."

"But what about my relatives themselves?"

"Only if there was no other choice. You have to take the blood protection into consideration…"

"Which, ironically enough, didn't protect me against my own blood relatives!" Harry retorted. "Don't you see the terrible irony it? Something which you could have easily put an end to and avoided altogether?"

"Harry, I had no other choice…"

"The way you keep saying that, I don't really think you have any other good excuses to try and feed me, Dumbledore," Harry said with obvious disrespect. "And you know something else? I'm not convinced you ever did have my best interests in mind… at least not for my sake."

Harry plowed on. "You needed your weapon intact… the only one who could vanquish Voldemort, or so the prophecy says. You wanted to mould me into your ideal little soldier, one who would want to come here to the Wizarding world and stay here, especially after living with the Dursleys for so long. You wanted me to look up to you as if you were the infallible leader of the Light which everyone idolizes you as so much."

"No, that's not true and you know it," Dumbledore said, now almost pleadingly.

"Oh, don't worry, _Headmaster_," Harry said as he oozed out that word in a sickeningly-sweet way, with an evil smirk on his face which did not suit his handsome face. "After all…"

And suddenly, Harry's voice changed into one which Dumbledore knew and remembered all too well, even after all these years.

"…I'm not the first student you've ever had before who has had problems with his Muggle relatives or surroundings."

And in a flash, young Harry Potter morphed into young Tom Riddle.

Their surroundings also changed. Number Four, Privet Drive morphed into the dilapidated ruins of the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, and the bodies of the Dursleys also morphed into those of the Riddles, even though the Riddle House had been falling apart for decades, and the Riddles looked as though they could have just been killed within the past day.

"So… young Harry Potter manages to fight off his malicious aunt, uncle and cousin, sever the blood protection from all the hatred and animosity between them, magically damages the house so it collapses mere minutes later… but spares the Dursleys instead of immolating them alive when he has the chance," Riddle mused as he twirled his wand. "Not quite up to my standards, but still rather impressive for a ten-year-old wizard who has yet to receive his Hogwarts letter."

"No," Dumbledore muttered, "he's _nothing_ like you! He can't be!"

"Ironic, isn't it?" Riddle chuckled, completely rubbing it in Dumbledore's face, so to speak. "In an effort to avoid repeating a past mistake… you somehow end up making sure it happens all over again!"

Dumbledore shook his head as he tried to tune out Riddle's words as he felt his own self-doubt and loathing eat away at him from the inside.

"But don't worry, Headmaster," Riddle continued, "after all…"

Suddenly the voice changed again.

"…Look at how well _I_ turned out."

Dumbledore could feel his bones grow cold at the sound of _that_ voice. The one which haunted and plagued him. The voice of the name of the self-styled Dark Lord whom almost no one, save himself, dared speak…

Tom Riddle morphed again… into Voldemort.

And all around them, the surroundings and bodies instantly burst into flames, and now they were surrounded by a circular wall of towering fire.

And all the while, Voldemort laughed coldly and cruelly.

"You know something, old man," Voldemort addressed him haughtily, "for how much you claim to have stood and fought against me, you have sometimes helped me in ways even greater than those of my most devoted followers! I suppose I should feel thankful and all to you for allowing me to do what I wanted, with your indifference and neglect… but to tell the truth, I always have despised you."

Here, Voldemort's face became truly twisted and murderous, becoming so hideous and terrifying that even a gorgon would have been frightened out of its wits.

"But don't leave it to me to do all the talking… here, allow me to let you hear it for yourself from all of the casualties from my righteous crusades – past, present and future!"

Looking down, Dumbledore could see that the floor beneath them had vanished. Down below, there were ghastly bodies of people down there, all of them flailing their arms and trying to reach up to him from where they were. For a moment, Dumbledore thought he could even identify a couple of familiar faces among those below, even among the seemingly infinite number of cursed figures down there.

And the next moment, Dumbledore began to fall.

For what felt like an eternity, Dumbledore fell down through the fiery pit while Voldemort stayed where he was, laughing in triumph over him…

And suddenly, Dumbledore woke up.

He was lying in bed, breathing hard and starting to sweat. It took him a moment or so to assess the situation, and make sure that he was awake now, and not stuck in a bad dream.

A few moments later, however, tears began to run down his face as he wept.

* * *

Although it was not so obvious first, Dumbledore's sorrow and less-than-enthusiastic mood began to seep through the school like a kind of gas.

Whenever he spoke these days, it was not with his usual excitement and eccentricity, and that legendary twinkle in his eyes was seldom seen. Except for a few really serious incidents within the school itself, he rarely got excited over anything these days.

There had even been one incident where those second-year twins from Gryffindor, Fred and George Weasley, had completely flooded a hallway, leaving several people in it wet up to their ankles, including Dumbledore himself. For a brief moment, Dumbledore turned around to look at the twins as though he wanted to punish them; but the next moment, and to everyone's great surprise, he just sighed and continued on his way, sloshing through the water as he went. (Interestingly, the twins had been so put out and disappointed by the lack of any kind of reaction that they didn't cause any more intentional trouble for the rest of the year.)

A week after the Dursleys' various incarcerations, news began to leak out to the magical community about them being punished for abusing and neglecting one _Harry Potter_. Within a day, the rumor mill went wild all over the magical community in Great Britain, but then after that, people began to change their minds as to the possibility that this could be _the_ Harry Potter. Dumbledore himself was stupefied by how, ironically enough, witches and wizards all over the country simply _refused_ to believe that their precious savior could be the nephew or cousin to this Dursley family. Both wizards and Muggles alike had a tendency to believe the worst things they heard, especially when it was fed to them by media who did not mind spinning off the most outrageous and attention-seeking "news" they could, but how witches and wizards everywhere could so completely ignore the truth this one time when it was true… it truly boggled Dumbledore's mind. There was no way, they said, that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who vanquished the Dark Lord You-Know-Who when he was only a baby, could have been left with a horrible and abusive Muggle family and be forced to act as their virtual slave. Even when Rita Skeeter tried to spin it off, every Wizarding media outlet refused to carry her story, from _The Daily Prophet_ to _Witch Weekly_ – by Merlin, even _The Quibbler_ refused to do so!

Dumbledore did not bother to correct them. Besides, Harry had been through enough already because of the Headmaster's indifference and ignorance of the situation; the last thing he needed was this public attention and humiliation with everyone knowing what he went through with the Dursleys. Dumbledore had already vowed to himself to make sure that no one else in the Wizarding world found out about Harry's ordeal; this simply made things a whole lot easier for him.

However, two other people new the truth, as they had also been there that night, nearly ten years ago, when Harry was left on his relatives' front doorstep. One of those two people had something to say to Dumbledore about it.

Professor Minerva McGonagall walked towards Dumbledore's office late one Friday afternoon after classes. For an entire day, she kept herself composed and looking calm after seeing something in a Muggle newspaper which otherwise made her want to go to Dumbledore's office straightaway and have a few serious words with him.

Dumbledore was in his office, in deep thought and contemplating whether or not to have a lemon drop, when the chime suddenly sounded. He suddenly jumped in shock, causing the precious lemon drop to fly from his hands and into the fireplace.

Sighing in exasperation, he just took his arm and swept the small jar of lemon drops off of the surface of his desk and to the floor. He did not even bat an eyelash as they made contact and scattered over the floor. "Come in," he said tonelessly.

Professor McGonagall entered, and gave a very peculiar look at the sight of an exasperated Dumbledore sitting at his desk, apparently not bothered by the fact that a small pile of his beloved Muggle candies was lying on the floor.

"Albus?" she asked carefully. "Is something wrong?"

"Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Minerva?" he asked tonelessly as he just continued to look at his desk.

McGonagall was originally going to show Dumbledore the article in the newspaper and then question his wisdom in leaving Harry with his Muggle relatives all those years ago, but now, as she saw him look so lifeless and depressed, she just could not bring herself to do it.

"Yes, there was something I wanted to show you, although I am not so sure if now is the best time…"

"Would it happen to have anything to do with young Harry Potter?" Dumbledore asked her.

She stared at him, dumbfounded, and wondering how he could have known how that was what she wanted to talk to him about. However, Dumbledore's next action explained that, as he took out a Muggle newspaper, which was identical to her own.

"I keep myself up to date with events in both worlds as well, my dear Minerva," Dumbledore said.

"Don't you 'dear Minerva' me," she snapped. Dumbledore took a moment to realize that she was treating him the same way she might treat a young, troublemaking student.

_I suppose I had this coming,_ Dumbledore thought to himself, resigned to his fate. _Although the last thing I need would be for Hagrid to find out…_

But no sooner had he completed that thought than did he hear a series of faint tremors, as though someone was thumping across the ground…

Turning to gaze out the window, he could see Hagrid striding across the grounds towards the castle, and even from where he was sitting, Dumbledore could see a very serious expression on the caretaker's face.

_I may as well wait for him to come here and join us,_ the headmaster thought with a sigh. _That way, I'll only have to explain and defend myself once…_

Soon enough, Hagrid entered the headmaster's office. Hagrid was obviously shaking with anger, but Dumbledore had a feeling that Hagrid was holding back from yelling at him only out of respect for him… and maybe because he didn't want anyone else to find out about the truth of Harry Potter's home life.

"Headmaster," Hagrid said slowly, but clearly angry. "Could yeh please explain abou' what I've bin hearin' abou' those Dursleys… an' Harry?"

Dumbledore took a moment to compose himself before answering either of them. "They were the only people I felt I could leave Harry with. There were no other living relatives on either side of his family… and I think we all remember what happened to his father's friends."

"There was no one else?" Hagrid inquired.

"At least no one who could have exploited Harry or spoiled him," Dumbledore said seriously. "Not only were there still fanatically loyal Death Eaters out there, but also corrupt Ministry officials and other people who would have wanted to use the prestige of raising Harry Potter for themselves. Even perfectly honest and well-meaning families, grateful for Voldemort's downfall, could have ended up spoiling him.

"I made sure that he was left with his relatives for the sake of his own safety, so that he would know the truth when the time came. He survived because of his mother's sacrifice, and her love for him… this is what constitutes his blood protection with his aunt, his last remaining blood relative."

"Obviously he wasn't safe enough," Hagrid grunted. "Not from his own relatives!"

"That's not all," McGonagall added. "According to the Muggle authorities, _he had been missing for a year_! For the entire past year, when we thought he was with his relatives, he was on the run!"

Dumbledore didn't show any surprise, but the office's two other occupants quickly figured it out. "Yeh KNEW?" Hagrid half-shouted. "Yeh knew that 'e was missin' this whole time?"

McGonagall fixed Dumbledore with a glare so furious that he actually shrunk back in his chair.

"Curse it, Headmaster, I rescued Harry meself!" Hagrid ranted. "I took him from the ruins of the house… but I didn't do it just so he could suffer fer years with so-called 'blood relatives' who hated him! When I think about wee Harry and how he must have felt growin' up with 'em… oh Merlin, poor little Harry…"

Hagrid actually broke down crying, and as he pulled out a big handkerchief to dab his eyes, McGongall put a reassuring hand on his arm. "There, there, Rubeus," she said reassuringly. "Why don't you wait outside? We can have a nice cup of tea in my office…"

Hagrid nodded, unable to articulate anything coherent from his weeping, and left the office.

Turning her attention back to Dumbledore, she carried on instead. "Did you _really_ think those _Dursleys_ would just accept him right away, just like that?"

"Perhaps not, Minerva," Dumbledore admitted, "but I had to give them the chance to come to accept him for who and what he was… a wizard who was also their blood kin."

"Albus," she groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "I know how you feel about giving people second chances, and how people tend to improve themselves after learning from their mistakes – and don't get me wrong, because I've seen you turn around lives in ways I would have never thought possible – but really, this was one mistake you should have seen coming and should have been able to easily avoid."

"I suppose so," Dumbledore said quietly, looking down at the surface of his desk.

"And what happens when people find out the truth about Harry Potter?" she demanded of him. "What if he doesn't show up at Hogwarts like he should? What if something happens to him? What if he gets _killed_, Merlin forbid?"

Her voice became increasingly more strained with each possibly outcome. She herself couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to James' and Lily's son.

"We still have more than a few months before the start of the next school year," Dumbledore reminded her. "But if we still cannot find Harry by then, or if something happens to him first, Merlin forbid… then I just may have to face the consequences of my actions."

McGonagall noticed how she said "I" and not "we."

"For all of our sakes, Albus, I hope you're right about this…"

"So do I, Minerva… so do I."

* * *

"Hell" can be something of a flexible term or idea for various kinds of people.

In the religious sense, it is that place where evil and wicked people go after they die to suffer for the sins which they committed while they were alive. In many faiths and cultures, especially those in Europe and Asia, such as the Greek culture and its Tartaros, Hell was a place of eternal fire where people burned for their sins. Yet in other cultures, such as the ancient Mayan culture, Hell was a dreary, miserable, watery realm known as Xibalba. Still other cultures believed that evil souls were tormented or destroyed by evil demons of their own creation.

A few people had also described through their art, writing, and other works what their own Hells would look like, at least in their opinion. The Florentine poet Dante Aligheri, for example, wrote in his _Divine Comedy_ about a multi-layered hell, at the bottom of which was an icy-cold lake where traitors would sink, since treachery was often the worst sin or crime which a person could commit.

Even within all these tales, there were stories of individuals who suffered in their respective Hells. In Greek mythology alone, there was a whole showcase of such characters: Tantalus, king of Thebes, who wanted to give the gods his best and thus served up his son, Pelops, as a human sacrifice, now forced to stand in a pool of water which receded every time he tried to drink some and under a fruit branch which moved out of the way every time he reached for it (and from whose name the word "tantalize" is derived); Ixion, the father of the centaurs, who made advances on Hera, queen of the gods, and was now forced to run about while harnessed to a big flaming wheel; and Sisyphus, the shrewd and wily king of Corinth, who outwitted and outsmarted the gods themselves on many occasions, who was now forced to push a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down again whenever he neared the top, as a way to keep him busy and prevent him from coming up with new tricks.

However, as people have often said, sometimes they go through waking, living hells of their own: Miserable experiences in their lives which they cannot escape from.

For one young boy in a mental hospital… his own personal Hell was a small white room, with a few furnishings – a bed, a cabinet, and a nightstand – all of which were bolted to the floor or to the wall, and his only possessions were the clothes he wore, which technically belonged to the facility.

Dudley Dursley was in hell.

After his parents had been arrested, some strange people had escorted him to a van, asking him to come with them while everything was sorted out. Dudley hesitated for a moment, but then agreed.

But once Dudley was in the back of the van, and he asked where they were going, they didn't answer him at all. He began to yell and scream at them while reserving enough energy for a tremendous tantrum later, but they just kept driving anyway.

Sometime later, the van pulled up to the heavy metal gates to a building which gave an uncomfortable feel to anyone who just looked at it. For a few seconds, Dudley could read the sign over the gates:

_ST.__ BRUTUS' SECURE CENTRE FOR INCURABLY INSANE CRIMINAL BOYS_

Dudley gasped in horror. His father told him about this place, and how it would be a perfect place for the _freak_ to go to. Surely they couldn't be trying to send _him_ there!

Flying into a rage, he unleashed all his pent-up rage and tried to escape from the back of the van. He actually managed to shake the van a little, as well as put a few dents in its interior as he tried to break out like some hero in one of those movies which he liked to watch so much. When the two men in the front of the van got out and walked around to open the back, Dudley felt elation: He was finally getting out of here!

As the van doors opened, Dudley tried to rush out…

_Yay__, I'm free!_

…Only to get himself stunned by the driver with a taser like the kind which the police used.

Satisfied that this delinquent boy wouldn't be causing any more trouble, at least for a little while, the two people simply shut and sealed the back doors again, got back in the front, and drove the van through the gates.

"Hey, you do know we're not supposed to use or even have those things, right?" the other man up front asked the driver. "Where did you even get that thing to begin with?"

"Eh, my brother is a copper," the driver explained smugly. "Besides, the little punk had it coming, anyway."

Dudley was not unconscious, mainly because of all his layers of fat protecting him, but he lay on the floor, breathing heavily and feeling pain all over his body. He couldn't even lift his head.

After the van went through the gates, the heavy metal gates themselves slammed shut with a thunderous and unpleasant sound, and Dudley could feel his chances for escape vanish with that.

From there, Dudley's memory blurred into a montage of scenes… him being escorted into the building by guards… him being forced to undergo a physical examination… and finally, him being given his own private little room.

Oh, how he hated this room. How he hated this place. _How hated what his life had become!_

The worst part of all was that he could never get what he wanted. No nice new clothes, no small mountains of any good food, no toys, no television sets, computers or other electronic devices… there was absolutely nothing which he might want.

Dudley was hardly the smartest boy around, but he was devious enough to know certain tricks and tactics to get what he wanted. Barely a day after his arrival at St. Brutus', he threw a nice big tantrum, with the works. But nothing happened. So, Dudley tried it again… and again… and again. In fact, he must have thrown at least a dozen different tantrums, all within a week, and nothing happened.

Well, something did happen… but all he saw where emotionless doctors, workers and orderlies observing him and his behavior as they scribbled notes on their clipboards.

When his tantrums didn't work, Dudley tried whatever else he could think of: He screamed, he cried, he threatened, he begged… he said whatever he could think of to make them do _something_ he might like, to make them unlock the door or let him go. He even yelled every foul and profane word he could think of at these people – and he knew quite a lot of them, thanks to his father – but even those didn't seem to bother these people.

For once in his life, Dudley couldn't get his way, and it infuriated him to no end. What he wanted and what he received were two completely separate and different things.

The first day alone was horrible. He was woken up early in the morning by a horrible-sounding buzzer which made him feel as though something was stabbing at his ears. One of the orderlies unlocked his door and told him that he would get breakfast… but first, he had to make his bed.

Dudley gaped at the orderly incredulously, and spent the next several minutes ranting and raving, trying to explain to the orderly that he didn't need to do chores like make beds, because his parents told him he was special, and at his house, it was the _freak_ who was in charge of doing that…

But the orderly did not even so much as refute Dudley's claims on how things were supposed to be, let alone speak at all. He just gazed at Dudley expectantly.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere like this, Dudley conceded, swallowed his pride, and for what must have been the first time in his life, he made his bed.

Dudley was looking forward to breakfast – the thought of food to consume – but was appalled by his measly little serving of a mouthful of scrambled eggs, a strip of bacon and a slice of toast. He easily ate it all in one gulp – anyone witnessing it could swear that he _inhaled_ it all – and immediately demanded more. But alas, and to no avail, he was unable to get any more food for breakfast.

After that, he was returned to his room, where he was let out again for lunch and escorted to the cafeteria, returned to his room again, let out again for dinner, and returned to his room once more for the rest of the evening and night.

It went on like this for a week, and no matter what Dudley did or tried to do, he could not get his way at all or get the people in charge to budge a single inch.

No television, no mounds of food and snacks, no toys, no nice clothes, no house, and no Mummy and Daddy to give him whatever he wanted…

Indeed, Dudley Dursley was in his own personal little Hell.

More than a week after he first arrived, he finally tried to get away with something. During breakfast, he tried to swipe another child's food.

"What do you think you're doing, piggy?" growled a voice behind him.

Dudley froze and nearly wet his pants. Gulping and slowly turning around, he saw Bubba, an enormous fourteen-year-old even bigger than himself, although not as fat.

"Oh, I um," Dudley stammered.

"You were trying to take my food," Bubba stated flatly.

Acting impulsively, Dudley acted quick, trying to snatch up the food, shove it in his mouth and consume it before Bubba could do anything about it.

Dudley thought that he could get away with it… but Bubba's hard fist to his face and subsequent bloody nose proved that he couldn't.

The food fell to the floor, completely ruined and inedible now, and Bubba knew that he wouldn't be getting another serving because of this little confrontation, but that was fine by him: As far as Bubba was concerned, this was worth it. Besides, he was trying to go on a diet, anyway.

"Now you listen to me very carefully," Bubba said in a dangerously low voice as he leaned closer to Dudley until their faces were barely inches apart. "You may have been the special kid where you came from, but here, you're nobody, but just another kid, just like the rest of us. You get treated the same way as us, and you do the same things as us. You got that, piggy?"

With his survival instincts kicking in, Dudley nodded furiously, his many chins wobbling as he did so.

"Good," Bubba said with a satisfied smile which only scared Dudley more. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding, Piggy."

At this point, the orderlies came in and escorted both boys back to their respective rooms. Bubba offered no resistance, but Dudley fought back as he unsuccessfully tried to seize the opportunity to do something.

Once he was back in his room, Dudley's patience finally snapped. Not caring that his room and everything in it were made of steel, concrete, plastic, and other such materials which could resist him, he finally threw a tantrum as he punched his firsts at the bed, kicked the nightstand, and even banged his own head against the wall, until his knuckles and forehead became bloody.

As Dudley lay on the floor, feeling exhausted from the tantrum (or maybe it was also the blood loss?), the door was unlocked and orderlies came rushing in.

_Finally, I'm getting out of here,_ Dudley thought happily through the haze in his mind, before he fell unconscious.

When he came to again, he felt himself lying on a comfortable surface with something warm wrapped around him.

_Maybe I'm home,_ Dudley thought to himself hopefully. _Maybe I'm lying in my bed in my room in my house, with all my stuff around me, my mum and dad downstairs waiting for me for breakfast, and this was all just a bad dream…_

(However, unbeknownst to either Dudley or Bubba, both of their parents had already met each other in their respective facilities, and already had become well-acquainted, especially after Bubba's father trashed Dudley's father in a brawl, and Bubba's mother had slapped around Dudley's mother. While Bubba's family had their own problems and issues, they absolutely detested and abhorred child abuse and neglect, and instantly hated the Dursleys with a passion for how they treated their nephew, young Harry Potter.)

However, as he tried to use his arms to lift himself up, he found out that he couldn't; his arms were stuck to his sides for some reason.

As he opened his eyes and became more alert, he took in the situation and began to understand, much to his growing horror and despair.

He was dressed in a straightjacket, lying in a padded cell.

Dudley couldn't even find the strength or the will power to throw any kind of tantrum. He just sat there, sniffling quietly, bemoaning what his life had become.

And all that while, he just kept thinking to himself, over and over again…

_I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home…_

But through it all, Dudley persisted in thinking about one thing: His _freak_ of a cousin and how unhappy he deserved to be.

_I hate that freak… that freak doesn't deserve to be happy… I hope that freak will never be happy again…_

* * *

Soon enough, Harry had recovered from his final encounter with the Dursleys, and he was back to his normal, happy, Dursley-free self.

However, something still gnawed at him…

"Pim?" he said aloud one day, knowing that his magical mentor and guardian would hear him.

"Hmm?" Pim said, his avatar appearing not too far from where Harry stood.

"I've been thinking about something… about what my aunt told me that day," Harry said slowly. "I didn't believe what she said about my parents – especially some of the nastier things about my mother – but what if she was telling the truth about at least _some_ things?" After a small pause, Harry then added, "In order to tell some lies or twist the truth around, she would have had to know the truth to begin with, right?"

_Ah, sharp boy, very wise,_ Pim thought. "That is a very good point, Harry."

"Thanks, Pim. So… what do you think?"

Pim thought about it for a moment or so. "Well, as far back as ancient Rome, I recall there being a yearly schedule for the first magical schools and institutions, much like your modern school system, where students went for most months of the year to study and learn, except for a few during the summer, when they would help on their families' farms.

"If a term for Hogwarts really does start this September, then there may not be much time left for you to register at the school. We may have to act fast."

"But what would you have me do?"

"Harry… is your birthday not the day after tomorrow?"

Harry quickly did the arithmetic within his head. Yes, it was indeed the twenty-ninth of July. Soon enough, it would be his eleventh birthday.

"Yes… why, what do you have in mind, Pim?"

"Well, I have been thinking about it, Harry… I think part of the reason no one has been able to find you here is because of the wards, and while that has been absolutely vital and useful for your own protection, it has also been impeding the ability for anyone to get in contact with you when they probably have good reason to do so. So… how about you stay somewhere for a day or so, see if anyone comes along?"

Harry thought it over. "It's an interesting idea, Pim… but I don't think I'm just going to go where there are lots of people around and just wait for _anyone_ to come along to find me."

"Good thinking, Harry."

"So… know of any good isolated places where I can hang around, see who comes by?"

Pim looked thoughtful. "You know something? I think I know just the place… Pack your things, Harry, and make sure you have enough to last for a day."

"Okay, sure… but may I ask what your plan is?"

"My plan is to have you wait somewhere for twenty-four hours – one full day – just to see if these other wizards can find you. That way, you can make sure that whoever is trying to contact you from this school has a chance to do so."

"Actually, that reminds me," Harry spoke up. "I was thinking about something… you don't mind me going to this school?"

Here, Pim noticed how Harry looked a little worried as to how Pim himself might react to his wanting to go elsewhere as well as the Tower of Pim.

"Of course not," Pim replied, looking completely fine with it. "You cannot stay cooped up in this tower for years to come. Besides, I'm sure magic has changed and advanced so much in the past fifteen hundred years that you're going to need to learn about it from other people as well. Obviously, you can still come back home for the summer and other holidays. You certainly need not ask for my permission to go there."

"Thanks, Pim," Harry said, smiling.

* * *

A few hours later, close to midnight, Harry was sitting in a small hut on a rock out at sea. Pim told him that the old man who owned this hut was away for the week, so Harry could just stay there for a day and leave without any trace that he was ever there at all.

One of those small white lights which Pim used on more than one occasion to transport Harry to the tower was hovering in mid-air, and Pim magically spoke through it.

"Very well, Harry… you have some food to eat for the next day, a sleeping bag… and oh yes, before I forget… here is something which I made long ago, which you might want to use for the day…"

Another dot of white light appeared above Harry, and something magically fell out of it. Harry caught the object and looked it: It was a small black stone, circular and smooth. It was a little larger in diameter than the size of his palm, and was as thick as his hand. It was basically a disc.

"This will start counting down at midnight, and will help you keep track of the time until it has been twenty-four hours," Pim explained. "If nothing happens after twenty-four hours, then just collect your things and use your Recaller to return home."

"Of course, Pim."

"Will you be able to keep yourself busy in the meantime?" Pim asked. "I noticed that you did not bring any books with you."

"I dunno, I figured that the less I have with me, the better. Besides, if anyone sees my stuff, especially the stuff which belongs to you, they may I ask where I got it from."

"Ah, very good thinking, Harry. But are you sure you will not be bored?"

"I'm sure my imagination will be enough, but thanks for asking, Pim."

"Indeed. It will be midnight in less than a minute, and the chronometric device which I left you will begin working then. If there is nothing else…"

"I'll be fine, but thanks again, Pim."

"Good luck, Harry."

"Thanks."

With that, the white light disappeared, and Harry was by himself.

Moments later, Harry saw the numbers appear on one side of the disc. The way there were displayed in white against the black surface and how they were counting down, second by second, reminded Harry of a digital clock or watch.

_Well, I have a long day of waiting ahead of me,_ Harry thought as he yawned. _Might as well pass a good chunk of the time by getting some sleep._

He set up his sleeping bag, crawled inside of it, put his glasses on the side, and was asleep within minutes.

* * *

It was after daybreak when Harry woke up. He consulted the enchanted stone which Pim lent him: It was about nine in the morning.

_Well, only fifteen hours to go,_ Harry thought optimistically.

Just then, he heard something at the window.

He turned around at the tapping sound… and saw an owl.

It was also an owl with a letter in its beak.

As Harry walked over, the quickly surmised that perhaps modern-day wizards used owls to deliver their mail. Then again, he really wasn't all that surprised: As far back as ancient Greece, some people had used carrier pigeons. As a matter of fact, the use of carrier pigeons to deliver messages helped win certain battles in history, even in more recent wars like World War Two.

He opened the window to let the owl in, and it dipped its head, offering the letter to Harry.

"Thank you," he said politely to the owl. The normally-nocturnal bird hooted something back in the Strigine language which owls spoke, which basically translated to "You're welcome."

Harry looked down at his letter. It was in a thick parchment, addressed to him in green ink. On the back there was a seal, showing a crest with a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake. There was no return address and no stamp.

However, Harry also noticed something else, especially about the address…

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Biggest Bedroom_

_Hut-on-the-Rock_

_The Sea_

_Interesting,_ Harry thought. _Well, I guess I better see what's inside._

Opening it up, he took out a piece of parchment and read it.

_HOGWARTS__ SCHOOL__ of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions were forming and multiplying like rabbits within Harry's mind.

"What do they mean by 'await my owl'?" Harry asked aloud.

The owl, which had been patiently sitting there that entire time while Harry was reading his letter, hooted and gestured at the envelope. "Actually, there's something else in there, take a look," he said in Strigine. Looking inside, Harry could see a small slip of parchment inside, separate from the letter.

_We have been trying to get in contact with you for some time now. If you have safely received this letter, then please return this slip back with the owl as confirmation, and stay where you are until someone comes to get you._

Harry also noticed that it was written in a different hand than the acceptance letter, and that there was no signature to it.

Harry was inclined to do as the letter said, and return the slip back with the owl to whoever was at Hogwarts. But then he thought about the part about someone coming to get him; for some reason, that idea did not reassure him… but then again, he figured that he could just use his Recaller to escape if someone tried to keep him under guard or something, if it came to that (The Powers That Be forbid!).

With that idea in mind, he gave the slip back to the owl by itself and said, "Here, you can take this back."

"Thank you!" the owl hooted happily as it accepted the slip back and flew back outside and out of view.

As Harry watched it fly away, he also saw a lot of dark clouds on the horizon. As the hours passed, he would see it come ever closer to where he was.

_Yay__, a storm,_ Harry thought to himself. _Should make this even more fun._

Harry sat down to have his packed breakfast, which was in a completely separate bag from what would be his lunch and dinner later on. After enjoying an apple and a chunk of cheese, he tossed the apple core out the window and into the sea to let the birds, fish, or other local creatures have something to eat, and sat down on his duffel bag.

_Whoever is coming to get me, I hope they come here soon._

He consulted Pim's time-telling disc only every hour or so. With nothing else to do, he just napped and daydreamed.

It was around lunchtime when he thought he first heard thunder in the distance. He strode over to the window to look outside, and he saw the approaching storm clouds give of a flash of lightning.

_One, two, three, four, five…_ Harry mentally counted in his head. Five seconds after he saw that flash of lightning, he heard the thunder following it. _It's about a mile away, then,_ he concluded.

Harry learned somewhere, most likely through his own independent studies, that sound traveled at approximately seven hundred and sixty miles per hour, and thus took approximately five seconds just to travel one mile. So, as the hours went by and the storm came closer, Harry used this knowledge to calculate roughly how far away it was and how close it was coming.

_Ah well, at least I have my own light show as part of some free entertainment,_ he thought optimistically as he had his lunch (some milk and a small bunch of grapes with a slice of bread).

It was late in the day, roughly sunset, when the storm was quite literally at his shore, at this rock in the sea. As Harry was taking out his supper, he listened to the storm, this natural albeit harsh symphony of rain pounding on the hut, winds blowing against it, and lightning striking very close to it, followed by its loud thunder.

As Harry had his supper (another slice of bread, some nuts, and a delicious orange), he was completely at ease with the storm. However, barely a minute after he finished his dinner, one particularly strong lightning strike took place just over or near the hut. He couldn't stop himself from jumping at just how intense it sounded; it almost sounded as though something enormous and loud would rush straight through the hut at any moment!

As the rumbling receded and ceased, Harry laughed nervously and calmed himself down. It was nothing to worry about.

As the night went on, the thunder and lightning drifted further away, but the rain kept on coming down and the winds continued to howl in their almost unearthly song. Harry merely continued to glance at the time on the enchanted stone. He wanted to stay up until midnight, until twenty-four complete hours had passed… then he could leave, if whoever was coming for him didn't show up first.

Besides… at midnight, it would be his eleventh birthday. He could just count down to celebrate, and assuming no one came by, he could just go back to the Tower of Pim, get some sleep, and then celebrate his birthday with Pim. Besides, Pim had hinted that he had something special for Harry when he returned. Harry wondered what it could possibly be…

Soon enough, it was nearly midnight, and there were only about a few minutes left. _Ah, here we go,_ Harry thought, fighting off fatigue and sleepiness to stay up for it.

However, during those last few minutes before midnight, Harry thought he heard something outside…

Five minutes to go until midnight. Harry thought he heard something creak outside. He also hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the roof wouldn't fall in after all…

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea which he was hearing, slapping hard on the rock like that?

Two minutes to go. What was that funny crunching noise outside? Surely the rock wasn't crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go. Sixty seconds… forty-five seconds… thirty seconds… fifteen seconds…

_Almost there,_ Harry thought excitedly.

Ten seconds… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one…

BOOM.

Harry nearly jumped as high as he did when that lightning struck just over the hut. The hut shook again… but this time, it was definitely _not_ because of lightning.

BOOM.

Someone was trying to get into the hut.

* * *

A/N:I think we can all guess what happens next…

**Regarding the chapter title… I just thought it was fitting.**

Personally, I like how Dumbledore's nightmare turned out. _(Also, I hope I didn't confuse anyone too badly with it.)_

As for the magical community refusing to believe the shocking truth this one time… how's THAT for a kicker? Yeah, I did it because I couldn't have the Wizarding world know about Harry's life with the Dursleys, or both worlds tearing each other apart over it.

For some reason, I decided to show what the Dursleys' new lives were like, even though I had originally planned to not mention them anymore after the previous chapter. I have no idea what British prisons and mental facilities are like, and so I'm taking a few creative liberties, especially with that St. Brutus' place, which is as fictitious as Hogwarts itself, so let us not get hung up on things like "realism" too much. Oh, and **Steve's Place** pitched the idea of Dudley having to deal with some kid named "Bubba"… I just took the idea one or two steps further with bringing in Bubba's own parents.

According to Peter Needham, who translates the HP books into Latin, the word for "owl" is _strix__, strigis_. From that, I got "Strigine."

The thing with how loud lightning can sound when it's right on top of you… take it from me, I've experienced that before. It almost sounded like a freight train was coming through!

_You know what to do… review!_

**_–Quillian_**

**(First posted: March 18, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)


	6. ALL IN A NIGHT'S WORK

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** Some things have been taken from the canon book itself, _but have reworded and rearranged whenever possible, especially to fit the AU circumstances of this fic._ In this case, it covers Harry and Hagrid meeting, the explanations about Harry's life, etc.

**WARNING:** Some more domestic violence, and the death of an obscure, currently nameless character. _You've been warned._

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Five, "Diagon Alley."**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE  
ALL IN A NIGHT'S WORK**

BOOM.

Harry looked around, dazed and confused from the fatigue of waiting up so late. He quickly stuffed the Recaller in his pocket and hid the time-telling stone disc just in time, as whoever was on the other side of the door finally managed to make his way in.

SMASH!

The hut's door finally yielded as it swung clean off its hinges, and on the threshold stood a giant of a man, at least twice as tall as any normal man, and at least five times as wide. He had a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, and beetle black eyes. His hands were the size of dustbin lids, and his boots were the size of baby dolphins. All in all, he simply had a very wild look about him, one which might have scared other people.

However, once he saw Harry and the two of them made contact, the giant man's face broke out into a cheerful smile.

"An' here's Harry!" the giant exclaimed.

Something told Harry that this man wasn't the kind who might hurt him. In fact, there was something about this newcomer which seemed familiar to him…

"Las' time I saw yeh, you was only a baby," he said, smiling. "Yeh look a lot like yer father, but yeh have yer mother's eyes."

"Well… thank you," Harry said appreciatively. That was the first time someone ever mentioned anything positive about his parents, or what they might have looked like. "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys an' Grounds a' Hogwarts. But please, call me Hagrid, everyone does."

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said, trying to formally introduce himself.

"Hey, Harry," Hagrid said, as a sudden thought occurred to him, "what are yeh doin' all the way ou' here? An' by yerself, from teh looks of it?"

"Oh, well," Harry began, as he focused his gaze elsewhere as he began to lie, "I was on vacation, wanted to get away from it all, and this hut on the rock all the way out at sea looked appealing… although I think maybe I should re-check the weather forecasts next time before I go."

As if to emphasize this last statement, there was another flash of lightning and accompanying clap of thunder outside. "Got tha' right," Hagrid muttered as he shut the door behind him. Turning back to Harry, he asked, "Got some room so I can make a cuppa? It ain't been an easy trip for me."

Harry craned his neck to look around as if having to check, and with a smile, he said, "Please, make yourself right at home."

"Thanks, will do," Hagrid said. "Now, for that tea…" he muttered as he rubbed his hands together. He then bent over and did something with the fireplace – Harry couldn't see exactly what – but a moment later, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, the hut was much brighter, and Harry felt much warmer.

Suddenly, Hagrid sat upright as though he had just remembered something. "Oh, by the way, I got yeh somethin'… I hope yeh like it…"

Hagrid took out a box, which he handed to Harry. Curious as to what it might be, Harry opened it, and what he found inside truly surprised him: It was a large, sticky chocolate cake with the words _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing.

"Wow, thanks, Hagrid, I'm touched," Harry said with complete sincerity. It was his first-ever birthday cake, or at least as far as he knew or could even remember.

"Ah, don't mention it," Hagrid said. "Best not ter have it all tonight, o' course."

Harry laughed as he took off a small piece of the cake. "Of course not." As he sampled his piece, he savored it. "Mmm… delicious." Normally, Harry had something of a moratorium on things like candy and cake, especially after seeing Dudley consume his own and grow fat, but he decided to indulge himself this one time. He then closed the box and put it aside for later.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of his coat's pockets. Harry watched, a little amused, as Hagrid pulled out things like a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, a couple of chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon enough, the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausages.

"Sausage, Harry?" Hagrid offered him.

"Sure, thanks," Harry said as he accepted it graciously and took a bite out of it.

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Think nothin' of it," Hagrid said. "Anyway, yeh know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Um – sort of," Harry said.

Hagrid looked fairly shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

_"Sorry?"_ barked Hagrid. "It's them Dursleys who should be sorry! Exactly what do yeh know abou' Hogwarts, anyway?"

Harry flinched at the mention of the Dursleys, but did his best to hide it. "Well, I know that it exists, and that I'm apparently accepted into it, because I've got the letter for it… but otherwise, I really know nothing about it," Harry said regretfully.

Hagrid made an exasperated sound as he ran his big fingers through his wild hair.

"Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?"

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered, as if unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Harry, do yeh know _anything_?" Hagrid asked him with a very serious air.

"What do you mean? About what, specifically?" Harry asked, unsure what Hagrid meant.

"I mean abou' _our_ world, Harry. The one I come from, the one where yeh belong…"

"What world is this?" Harry asked.

Hagrid began to look a little frustrated now.

"Yeh do know about yer parents, right?" Hagrid tried again. "After all, they were rather famous…"

"My parents?" Harry repeated, incredulously. _"Famous?"_

There was a beat while Hagrid tried to figure out what to say next. "Do yeh even know what you _are_?" Hagrid finally asked him.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry responded.

Hagrid let out a long groan. "Harry," he said at last, "Yer a wizard."

There was a brief silence during which only the sea and whistling wind outside could be heard. Harry had a feeling that he should act along, as though he had just learned that magic existed. He hated having to lie to Hagrid, whom he just met and seemed like a nice man, but he for the sake of secrecy, he had to pretend as though it was all new to him.

"Wizard?" he repeated. "As in magic?"

"Yes, Harry," Hagrid said with a smile. _"Magic."_

Harry smiled. "Well… I had a feeling that there was something more to it, and that things weren't just random accidents. Somehow, _something_ kept helping me to escape trouble. I could somehow protect myself. I could avoid other people if I had to, especially the kind who might want to do something bad to me."

"So yeh've always known, then?" Hagrid asked. "An' yeh were able to do a few different things?"

"Well, I knew there was _something_ going on," Harry clarified. "However, I didn't know until recently that it was _magic_. But yeah, I could do a few different things."

"Yup, yeh are a wizard, Harry, withou' a doubt," Hagrid confirmed. "So… yer lookin' forward to goin' to Hogwarts?"

"Um… I guess," Harry said with a shrug. "Why, am I supposed to go there?"

"I don' see why not," Hagrid answered him. "By Merlin, yer name's bin down ever since yeh were born! How can yeh not be eligible to go?"

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "So… what do I do then? What do they mean by 'await my owl'?"

"Gallopin' Gargoyles, of course," Hagrid said as though something had just occurred to him. With that, he then pulled something else from inside his overcoat: First he pulled out a real, live owl which looked rather ruffled from being inside Hagrid's coat, as well as a long quill and a roll of parchment. He began to scribble out a message to someone, but Harry could see what he was writing, even upside-down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Found Harry well, and he got his letter._

_Taking him to buy his things tomorrow._

_Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note and gave it to the owl, who promptly took it with its beak.

However, as the owl turned to look at the storm still going on outside, he expressed his concern in the Strigine language, however muffled it came out as he clamped the note in his beak.

"First it's boiling hot and stuffy in that coat, and now I have to fly through a freezing cold storm," groaned the owl. "How about that, huh?"

Even though Hagrid didn't know exactly what the owl was saying, he had a good idea of what. "Here, yeh know what," Hagrid said nicely, "I'll give yeh a boost to help fly through the storm, and there'll be lots o' nice Owl Treats when I return."

The owl seemed to consider it. "Eh… fair enough."

"Very well, then," Hagrid said as he picked up the owl and went to the door. As he opened it, he said, "Okay, ready? One, two… three!"

With that, he threw the owl out the door, and it flew out through the storm. With that done, Hagrid shut the door and returned to where he had been just previously. "Now… where were we?"

"Well…" Harry began, trying to remember what some of Hagrid was talking about. "You did mention something about my parents… but like I said, I don't know anything about them."

Hagrid suddenly looked very anxious. "Harry… I'm gonna be honest with yeh right now. I don' know if I'm the best person to tell you about what happened ter yeh and yer family, but yeh can't go withou' knowin' the truth. An' even then, some parts o' it are still a great myst'ry, there are some things which even I don' understand…"

"It's alright, Hagrid, I understand," Harry said reassuringly. "Please, just tell me what you do know."

"Right," Hagrid grunted, sitting down on the floor as he began. "I guess it all goes back to a person, years ago. However, he was evil… a monster. Everyone in our world knows his name, but… well…"

"But what?" Harry asked, confused.

"No one likes to say his name, and even I don' say it if I can help it. Some o' the things he did…" Hagrid trailed off and looked like he was trying to repress a shudder. "Take meh word for it, Harry, he was just _that bad_. No, worse than that. Worse than worse."

"Well… can you _write_ his name?" Harry suggested.

Hagrid shook his head. "Actually, I'd rather not do that either. Fine, I'll say his name… _Voldemort_."

Here, the giant man shuddered, as though he had just gone for a deep swim in the freezing cold water outside.

"Please don' make me say it again. Anyway… this – _wizard_, if yeh could call him that – started lookin' fer followers, abou' twenty o' so years ago. He didn' like how things were run, so he tried ter take over. He got his followers, too – some of 'em wanted power an' whatever else he had ter offer, an' others were jus' scared and didn't want to fight back. An' those who stood up ter him and tried ter fight back… he an' his followers killed 'em. Horribly. These were very dark days, Harry, when yeh didn't know who ter trust, yerself an' family an' friends were all at risk, and yeh didn't dare get friendly with strange witches or wizards… terrible things happened, an' he was takin' over as time went by. Hogwarts was one o' the only safe places left, an' You-Know-Who never tried ter take over… probably because Dumbledore was the only one he ever feared."

Harry sat there, listening. Voldemort almost sounded like a terrorist in the Muggle world… and by definition, he probably was.

"As for yer mum an' dad, they were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew, an' I've known a lot of 'em. They were bright students, and were even Head Boy and Head Girl in their final year together. Dunno why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… maybe because they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anything ter do with him."

With the mention of his parents, Harry began to have a very shrewd yet unpleasant idea of where this was going and how this _Voldemort_ character was tied into it.

"An' so, fer whatever reason, You-Know-Who decided he wanted yer parents out of the way," Hagrid continued, although his voice now sounded more grave. "So one night, on Halloween ten years ago, when yeh was just a year old at the time, he turned up where you was all living, an' he…"

Hagrid trailed off as he sounded more and more choked up. He then suddenly took out a handkerchief which looked like it had seen better days, and blew his nose with the sound like that of a foghorn.

"Sorry," he sniffed. "But it's just that sad… I knew yer mum an' dad personally, and take it from me, yeh couldn't find nicer people… anyway…"

Hagrid's next words only confirmed Harry's suspicions… but it didn't end there with the fate of his parents, and it went even beyond that.

"You-Know-Who killed yer parents. But then – an' here's the real myst'ry of the thing – he tried to kill you too. I don't know why he tried, or why he'd even want to… maybe he just liked killin' for the sake of killin' by then, I honestly don't know. He tried ter kill you, but he failed. No one lived after he decided to kill 'em… no one except fer yeh… an' make no mistake, we're talkin' about probably the worst Dark wizard _ever_… this is the one who killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age, like the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts… an' you was only a baby, and you lived."

Well, Harry decided, this was certainly _nothing_ like what his lying aunt and uncle had told him for years. But this was not some random accident which claimed his parents' lives, but a deliberate act of murder by someone, who by all accounts, was a cold-blooded monster. And quite frankly, Harry wasn't sure which possibility he liked _less_.

"Yeh ever wonder about that mark on yer forehead, Harry?" Hagrid continued. "That's no ordinary mark, Harry. From what I've heard, that's what happens when a Dark curse touches yeh. That Dark curse which You-Know-Who used on yeh… he used it on yer mum an' yer dad, probably even yer house. Yer the only one ever to survive that particular curse, an' that's why yer famous."

As Hagrid was finishing up his explanation, something painful was unfolding within Harry's mind. So often, there was that green flash of light which he often wondered about… but now he remembered it more vividly this time, and along with that, he remembered something else, for the first time: A high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid continued sadly, "I took yeh from the ruins of the house myself. It was decided that you had to live with yer relatives… though only Merlin knows why…"

"Did you know about my relatives?" Harry asked uneasily.

Hagrid looked uneasy himself. "I knew back then that they didn't like magic, and I didn't know that they would treat yeh the way they did… but it wasn't up to me, and believe me, Harry, I would have rather taken yeh in myself than leave yeh with _them_."

"Exactly what do people know about… me and the Dursleys?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"A few months ago, people in our world found out about a Harry Potter bein' mistreated by the Dursleys… yet strangely, people refused ter believe it was you. They said there was no way that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, could have been left with horrid Muggles."

_"Boy Who Lived?"_ Harry thought incredulously. _Where do these people come up with these things?_

"Anyway, as fer the rest o' the story," Hagrid continued, "Well, I think that about covers it all…"

But Harry was still thinking about something else, something which he had to ask. "But what happened to Vol-, I'm sorry, You-Know-Who?"

"That's the other thing. He just disappeared and vanished, right after he tried ter kill yeh. That's what makes yeh even more famous… an' that's also what makes it so big a myst'ry, because where did he go?"

_Where, indeed?_ Harry wondered.

"Some say he died, but that's codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Most people say he's dead, an' I don't blame 'em, because we all wanted him gone. However… there are a few of us, myself included, who believe that he's still out there, bidin' his time, but he also lost his powers, and he's too weak to carry on."

_I hope it's the former, then,_ Harry thought to himself.

"Yeh see, Harry, somethin' about you finished him off. There was somethin' goin' on that night that he hadn't counted on – I dunno what, and neither does anyone else – but somethin' about you stumped him, all right.

"An' that's about it, Harry. That's what I know."

Harry was silent for a few moments as he sat there and thought it over. He had finally gotten the truth about his parents… along with some information about other things which he never could have even imagined.

Besides, there was also this thing about being _famous_ which didn't particularly appeal to him…

After a few moments or so, he realized that Hagrid was still watching him.

"Well, thank you, Hagrid," he said at last. "It was about time I found out the truth about what happened to my parents."

"I imagine them Dursleys didn't tell yeh the truth," Hagrid said darkly.

"They told me that my mum and dad died in a car crash," Harry said bitterly.

If Harry had known how Hagrid would have reacted to that, he would have chosen his words differently or not have said anything at all, because the next moment, Hagrid angrily jumped up from his spot and began ranting. "A CAR CRASH?" he roared. "That's an outrage an' a scandal! No way James and Lily Potter would have died in somethin' like THAT! Oh, those Dursleys, ooh, I oughta…"

The next moment, he reached into his overcoat and pulled out a battered pink umbrella, and wielding it like a sort or a spear, he gave one final roar of anger and pointed it at the opposite wall. The next moment, a bright yellow light shot out from the end of it and hit the wall, blasting out a rather large hole which Harry could have walked through; the edges of the hole were still smoking from the blast, and a cold draft came through the newly-made hole.

"Er, sorry about that," Hagrid muttered as his scratched his head, embarrassed. Pointing his umbrella at the hole in the wall, the giant man shouted _"Reparo!"_ and the splinters and chunks of wood which had been blown outwards suddenly flew back into the place, fixing the hut's wall to what it was like before Hagrid blasted it.

"Um, look, about that," Hagrid said as he turned to Harry and put the umbrella away, "I'd be really grateful ter yeh if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone. I'm – well – not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'."

Harry could see that it was a sensitive issue for Hagrid, so he didn't press the subject but just nodded instead, indicating that he understood.

"Anyway, it's gettin' late, and we've got lots of things ter do tomorrow. We need ter get into town and get yeh books an' supplies an' all that."

* * *

While Hagrid was making himself comfortable in the other room, Harry went into the main bedroom. "Pim?" he whispered quietly. 

One of those small bright lights appeared in front of Harry. "Yes, Harry?" Pim's voice enquired through the light, softly but not in a whispering way.

"Someone's here, from the school which my parents went to," Harry said. "I guess Hogwarts does exist after all… anyway, this man who came to tell me about it, he's the groundskeeper, and apparently was a good friend of my parents, he said he'll take me somewhere tomorrow to get some stuff for this school."

"So, you were accepted into that school?" Pim said excitedly, and Harry could almost hear him grinning.

"Yeah, I did."

"Well done, Harry!" Pim congratulated him, almost like a proud parent.

"Thanks, Pim," Harry said as he could feel himself blush a little. "So, I just thought I would let you know what was going on…"

"And so you have, thank you. Anyway, it is currently very late, and it sounds as though you have a busy day tomorrow. So, I will bid you good night."

"Good night, Pim," Harry said happily, and with that, the small light disappeared.

Harry got into bed and put his glasses on the side. He felt somewhat better, as though a great weight or burden had been lifted from him.

But at the same time, something was bothering him, too…

He didn't know what to think about this whole new world which was revealed to him. It sounded like a place where he could finally belong and fit in… but it also sounded like one in which he would have to be very careful with what he did.

* * *

Somewhere deep in the Mediterranean Sea, near the ocean floor, a dark spirit – or some kind of darkness – moved through its pitch black depths, in search of something. 

Further ahead, in a cave, a magical being was about to rest after staying up late, studying his records and doing research. He looked like a man, but he also looked like a fish as well. He was neither, yet nor was he one of the merfolk, like those which inhabited Hogwart's lake, although he was similar to them. He was one of the last of his kind, and had lived for millennia.

The private quarters of this Fish-Man were illuminated by small schools of fish which naturally glowed with bioluminescence, and could be commanded to give off light or to stop doing so with a simple command from him. He was just about to give that command when he sensed something.

He could just _feel_ whatever it was, coming towards him. It was a unique darkness, one which had a mind of its own and knew what it was doing.

The Darkness, resembling a cloud of released octopus ink, paused in the circular stone portal which marked the entry and exit point to the Fish-Man's quarters. For a moment which felt more like an hour, he looked at it, and if it was at all possible, it just looked right back at him.

And then it lunged at him.

It did not lunge at the Fish-Man, but it instead lunged at something on the side, safely tucked away in a little niche of his "room." But he could see what it was aiming to do, and was not about to let that happen. Stored there, about a cubic meter in size, was a block of clay which was magically charmed to resist erosion, especially from water. It had carvings all over it in an obscure, spiky writing, but this block of clay was only a kind of "box" for what was concealed inside of it.

The Fish-Man snarled, and with a terrible screechy sound which sounded even worse underwater, he stretched out his hand and sent a distorted wave of paralyzing magic at the Darkness. It paused only for a moment, as it was only temporarily stunned, but that was all the time which the Fish-Man needed.

He grabbed the clay object from its niche, and with a wave of his hand, the bioluminescent fish ceased to give off their light. He then muttered a spell to himself, allowing himself to see in the murky darkness. The Fish-Man could now see the unnatural Darkness, floating around confused but still blocking the portal which led out of his quarters. Seeing no other choice, he decided to do the unexpected.

He actually swam right _through_ the Darkness. There was pain only for an instant – but it was horrible pain. It was like nothing the Fish-Man had ever felt before, not like heat, or cold, or electricity… but pure evil.

Not letting that slow him down, he continued swimming, out through the underwater caverns which made his home. He had to get out, and to the surface.

Through the natural darkness, the Fish-Man could see the entrance and exit to his abode ahead. He was almost there…!

But then a huge rock came down on him. He was stuck, pinned at the waist.

The Fish-Man had to think fast… he had to get this special object out of the reach of that evil Darkness… but how?

Thinking fast and seeing that evil Darkness approaching him, he quickly did a few magic spells. Finally, he muttered one last incantation…

_"Let this special object find the most worthy,  
Who will hide it in the safest place around."_

And with that, he used one last spell after that, and saw the special object speed away by itself.

The clay-encased special object would speed up through the water with a force like that of a rocket. Once it reached the surface, it would be propelled even further after escaping the water, and would fly high and out of sight, in an enormous arc through the atmosphere, and would land miles and miles away.

The evil Darkness was not pleased, and it made its furious feelings quite clear by summoning whatever magic it could to further wreck this Fish-Man's abode.

The last thing he saw were even more big chunks of stone being dislodged from the ceiling and falling down towards him…

…And then blackness consumed him.

* * *

On England's eastern coast, in the seaside town of Hastings in Essex, a middle-aged man was staying up late as he figuratively burned the midnight oil while he was doing important work and research. He might have considered breaking out the coffee to make the caffeine keep him awake, but he was so close to finishing his work that he felt it wasn't necessary. As a professor of certain ancient cultures, he was just glad that it was the middle of the summer and he therefore did not have to teach any classes any time soon. 

Soon enough, the professor was done, and he was putting everything away so he could finally turn in for the night.

However, just as he was making his way to his bedroom, he thought he heard a strange rumbling sound outside. He paused, curious, trying to make sure that he wasn't just imagining things in his fatigue. He then turned around to see a small yet bright white light behind one of the few clouds outside… and it certainly wasn't the moon.

Whatever it was, it fell through the clouds and into the water along the shoreline, where the sound of its impact resonated with a heavy _THUD_ sound. It certainly wasn't enough to shake the floor or anything, but he could feel it, however faintly, and it did kick up lots of water and sand some meters high.

The professor just stood there for a moment or so as he evaluated the situation. Well, he couldn't just go to bed now, not when something just landed outside his house on his seaside property. So, he grabbed his coat, hastily put on his shoes, and went outside to take a look.

Even in the summer, it was still rather chilly at night, and so he tried to warm himself as he walked down the small sloping ground from the house to the beach. Soon enough, he walked to the small crater which was left on the shoreline, which in itself was about a meter deep, maybe a little more than that. Already, water which was lapping against the shore was filling up the crater, and there was some steam; apparently, the object had been heated as it fell through the atmosphere.

This professor had been an archeologist in his younger days, and maybe it was just out of force of habit that he kept a pair of gloves with him most of the time. Either way, he put them on and used them to try and lift this object out of its newly-made crater.

It took some effort, and while this particular object was about the size of a small television set, it felt a lot heavier. As he pulled the object out of its crater, he realized that this was definitely _not_ some meteorite from outer space.

Meteorites from outer space weren't typically made of clay, nor were they perfectly cube-shaped even after falling through the atmosphere or crashing into the ground, and they were certainly not covered with a form of writing which was definitely from Earth.

Given his profession and experience, this man could easily recognize the wedge-shaped symbols which covered this block of hardened clay.

Putting his strength into it, he hoisted the block of clay out of its crater and carried it back to his house, stopping every dozen steps or so put it down for a moment and catch his breath, because it was just that heavy.

Finally, he got it back to the house, and after clearing the table which he had been sitting at earlier as he worked on the other thing, he put down more than a few layers of paper towels on it before placing the clay block on it.

A few times, his wife called him from the living room, reminding him that it was late and that he ought to come to bed. He just kept replying "In a minute, dear," as he continued to work on it, using his sources to translate this text.

He would be up all night doing this.

* * *

The evil Darkness which had been seeking out the big block of clay in the Fish-Man's possession was speeding across continental Europe as it tried to follow the path of its target, which had just been sent far beyond its shadowy grasp, thanks to some last-minute spells by its fishy owner. 

The Darkness remembered this land: It was the British Isles. It had been here before…

Pushing those particular memories aside, the Darkness continued its way to look around through the seaside town. It just knew that the desired object was in this town somewhere… however, whatever magic which the Fish-Man placed on the object must have also included some way to confuse the Darkness and its senses, somehow throwing it off. The Darkness could not use its magic to pinpoint its exact location, so the best it could do was to simply search each house, one by one.

If it could have done so, the Darkness would have sighed. The next moment, it began its search at the beginning of one street, and began to secretly explore each house from there.

However, a few houses down, a young girl, only about ten or eleven years old, was turning restlessly in her sleep.

She finally opened her bleary eyes and saw what time it was: Well past midnight, and too early for her.

She gave a casual glance out the window when she noticed something which made her do a double take.

She saw this unnatural dark cloud floating around, and something told her that it was magic, and not of the good variety.

She new about magic, and that she was a witch herself; her mother was a witch, who went to Hogwarts years and years ago, and had settled down with a Muggle man whom she loved. However, the father of this family didn't know that his wife or his daughter were witches or had magical powers, but both mother and daughter had agreed to let him know about it before she went to Hogwarts, because they were merely waiting for the right time to tell him.

Now, however, this girl and soon-to-be Hogwarts student was more worried about this thing which was going from house to house, and coming her way.

She ran to her parents' room and quickly woke up her mother. "Mummy, please, wake up!"

She awoke and groaned. "What time is it?"

"I know it's early, but please, there's something outside!"

"Are you sure it's not just a cat or something?" her mother said as he got out of bed.

"No, Mum," the girl whispered urgently to her, "I saw it, down the street, and it was something… evil. And I mean something _magical_."

The father was still asleep, but he was shifting in bed and grunting in his sleep. After pulling on a robe over her nightgown, the mother rummaged through a nearby cabinet for her wand, and upon retrieving it, she went to cast some spells to make sure that it was safe.

However, the dark cloud must have been able to move fast, for the next moment, both of them saw it farther down the hallway. And it was coming towards them…

Thinking it might have been a something like a dementor, the mother suddenly shouted, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

However, it must not have been a dementor, because the silvery creature which emerged from her wand had no effect on it, and it just vanished into silvery mist.

And yet, instead of continuing its advance, the dark cloud seemed to pause where it was, almost as if observing the two of them.

_"Lumos,"_ the mother whispered.

When the light was cast from her wand and showed what it was, they could not help but gasp at what they saw.

It almost shimmered and rippled like a cloud of ink underwater, but something told them both that it was something evil which could think for itself.

"What the bloody hell is that?" came a voice from behind them.

Just as both of them were turning around to see the father up and out of bed, squinting at the unnatural darkness in front of them, it lunged.

The father screamed in fright, and then in pain, as the dark cloud lunged at him. It hurt, beyond description, as it swept around him.

Horrified, but prepared to fight back, the mother pointed her wand and shouted, _"Divinalux!"_

The Divine Light spell was supposed to be effective against any kind of evil force, although some kinds were stronger than others, so sometimes the spell had to be used more than once.

There was a god-awful, unearthly, ear-splitting scream as the dark cloud simply flew around the room, trying to create as much chaos and havoc as it possibly could; the Divine Light spell must have rattled it and was hurting it.

With what sounded like an unnatural hiss, which was worse than anything any normal creature could make, the dark cloud screeched and fled out through the window, and out of sight.

There was a moment of silence while all three of them tried to figure out what to do next.

"Mum," the daughter said at last, "what _was_ that thing?"

"I don't know, dear," her mother responded, sounding a little stupefied herself.

"I'm… not feeling… so good," the father wheezed, looking rather flushed from his encounter with that dark cloud. There were also quite a few beads of perspiration on his forehead and face.

The next moment, he slumped forward, and so the mother quickly rushed to him and helped him get back into bed. "Don't worry, dear," she said soothingly and reassuringly. "It's all just a bad dream."

The father lay back in bed and fell asleep from exhaustion. Off to the side, the young girl asked her mother, "What do we do now?"

"You remember how I first told you, years ago, that you and I were witches, but we would tell your father when the time is right?" her mother asked her. The girl nodded. "We'll tell him tomorrow morning. We'll still pretend that this was all a dream, of course… but hopefully, he'll be able to take it well."

Her daughter nodded. "Okay."

How very wrong they would both be.

Deep within the father's mind, something painful was unfolding. At first, he was dreaming about the memory where he was being told about how his parents were killed by some street thug – almost as though he was reliving it – but then the memory shifted, and instead he saw an ugly green thing hovering over his house, a mark which resembled a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth… finding the bodies of his parents lying dead inside the wrecked house… his wife (a fiancée back then) being followed by people wearing strange cloaks and carrying small sticks of wood… one of them raising his stick, pointing it at him, and shouting _"Obliviate!"_…

* * *

Dumbledore was staying up late this particular night, so late that it was becoming early. He was just too nervous and preoccupied to go to sleep this particular night, instead of simply waiting until morning to read Hagrid's letter, which he had instructed the groundskeeper to write. He just had to know if young Harry Potter was alright… 

Soon enough, a cold, ruffled, and somewhat wet owl flew through the open window. Best of all, it bore a note from Hagrid himself.

Dumbledore was so overcome with excitement that he nearly forgot to handle the situation well. First things first, he decided. "Thank you so very much," he said kindly and gratefully to the owl as he used a couple of simple spells to dry and warm it. "Here, have a few Owl Treats."

The owl gave Dumbledore a very grateful and profound look as it gave the note to Dumbledore and began eating the Owl Treats.

Dumbledore quickly and eagerly read the note from Hagrid, feeling an explosion of happiness within himself. Harry Potter was alive and well! Things might not be so bad after all…

The headmaster even reread the note several times after that, just to ensure that he was reading it correctly and everything was fine. Once he was done, he put the note away in his desk, saving it for later.

He would also be sure to tell Minerva the good news in the morning, as he was sure she would be happy and overjoyed that not only was the son of James and Lily Potter alive and well, but he would also be coming to Hogwarts as he was destined to.

However, the thoughts about "destiny" then echoed and reverberated through Dumbledore's mind. He remembered about Harry's destiny, about the _prophecy_…

_No!_ Dumbledore thought firmly. He absolutely refused to dwell on that now. Soon enough, the time would come when he would have to tell Harry about this prophecy which was made before he was even born… but certainly not now, nor in the immediate future.

Sighing, Dumbledore allowed the owl to finish his meal and then fly to the Owlrey, and then walked over to bid Fawkes good night, and finally went to his private quarters so he could get some rest. He slept better that night than he had for the past year or so.

* * *

The professor had been up working all night. He didn't even notice that it was morning until the dawn's rays began reflecting off the water's surface and into the room where he was working. 

"Dear?" came a tired voice from the other room, followed by its speaker; his wife, wearing her bathrobe over her nightdress. "You didn't come to bed last night."

Her husband took off his glasses for a moment to rub his tired eyes. After he yawned, he said, "I'm so sorry, love, but I just found this last night, and I just _had_ to work on it…"

"You'd better not sleep through the day now," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine," he said easily in response.

"What is it, anyway?" she asked as she came closer. "And where did you find it?"

"This thing just crashed into the beach last night, along the shoreline!" he told her excitedly. "It's not that often that this sort of thing happens, but then again…"

He dropped his voice so only the two of them could hear it, and he said, "You do now how there is a little magic here and there, right?"

His wife smiled. She was a witch who had graduated from Hogwarts years before, while he was just a Muggle who was allowed to know about the Wizarding world considering that his wife was a witch herself. Shortly before they were married, she revealed to him what she was, and while he had been greatly surprised at first, he still loved her nonetheless and accepted her for what she was. If anything, this new knowledge only whetted his appetite, because Wizarding knowledge provided answers to so many things about Muggle myths.

"Still, this is a rather rare occurrence, even for someone like me," she answered, speaking in the same kind of vague double-talk which both of them had adopted. "So, what is it?"

"Well," he began, trying to find the right words, "it's what appears to be a cubic block of clay with a certain kind of ancient writing on it, which I'm sure you'll recognize."

Indeed, she recognized the wedge-shaped symbols on the sides of the block, although she certainly couldn't read them; after all, her husband was the professor and therefore the nearest available expert on ancient cultures.

"What does it say?" she asked him.

"Well, I'm almost done with the translations, and I'd rather wait until I'm done translating it entirely before I can safely say for sure what it says…"

"Great," she smiled. "I'll go make some coffee."

"Yes, I'd like some, please," he said absentmindedly.

As his wife went into the kitchen, he picked up one of his heavier books and held it open with one hand while holding up a magnifying glass to the block with his other hand. He was almost done decrypting the writing on it…

As she was making the coffee, she heard a heavy THUD from the other room, and well as the sound of a metallic-framed magnifying glass hitting the wooden table and falling to the floor as well.

"What's the matter?" she asked, rushing to him to see what the problem was. Her husband almost looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Slowly, he turned to face her. "I think I know what's inside of this thing, and if I'm right… then we need to do something about it. Quickly."

"Okay," she said slowly, "what do you think it is?"

After taking a deep breath, he told her what he thought the clay block was. Or rather, what it contained inside it.

She stared at him for a moment or so before finally saying, "Are you sure?"

He nodded vigorously. "I wouldn't make something like this up. It also came with the message that it needs to be protected as much as possible… and that it can't fall into the wrong hands."

She started to say something in return, but then made a frustrated gesture as if to say, _What now?_ "Well, what do you suggest we do?"

He thought hard about it. Finally, he came up with something. "How about that old headmaster of yours from your school… what's his name, again?"

"Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, him… well, I remember you telling me that the castle – your school, that is – is very well-protected. Perhaps we could have him… you know, look after it?"

She seemed to consider it. "Well, I can't really think of any other safer place, so maybe we should ask him. I'll ask him if he could protect it… but in the meantime, we need to protect this thing, and make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Excuse me a moment."

With that, she quickly went to her room to retrieve her wand, and after she came back with it, she went over the mantle over the fireplace and took a small locked box. She tapped it twice with her wand, and it magically opened up. After taking a pinch of the green powder kept within it, she threw it in the fireplace and yelled, "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!"

A moment later, Dumbledore noticed her head in his fireplace. After greeting this former student of his, he asked what she could do for her. She explained about the object which her husband found, and what the inscriptions on the object said after he had deciphered them.

Albus Dumbledore was rather shocked, although he didn't let it show. First he was arranging to protect the Philosopher's Stone for his old friend Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle, and now this…

"Very well, of course I shall help," he told her kindly. "Now, if you could send this object through the Floo Network, I will handle everything."

"Thanks again, Headmaster. Okay, I'm sending it through now…" With that, she withdrew her head from the fireplace and magically levitated the clay block, easing it through the fireplace and through the Floo Network into Dumbledore's office, where he safely received it on his end.

After ceasing contact, Dumbledore observed the unique writing on the block, and even ran his hand over the markings as he studied it.

However, after he ran his hand over one particular marking, the clay block suddenly split neatly down the middle and broke off into two symmetrical halves. Packed neatly in the center was what appeared to be a bell jar, with something within it.

It was that something within the bell jar itself which made Dumbledore gasp a little with amazement…

* * *

Elsewhere, back in their home, mother and daughter were having breakfast together, waiting for the father to come down and join them. However, they were also a little apprehensive. What if he remembered…? 

When he came down the stairs, he looked a little… unhappy.

"Good morning, Dad," his daughter said happily. "How are you?"

"I had the strangest dream last night," he said slowly. "I dreamt that something attacked me…"

Both the girl and her mother glanced at each other nervously, unaware of the fact that the father was acutely watching both of them.

"But that wasn't all," he continued. "I also dreamed that I found my home attacked, years ago… that both my parents were dead, and there was this weird thing hovering in the sky over my house, which looked like a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Then some sort of strange person pointed this kind of stick at me and shouted something…

"But I know that can't be true, because my parents died in a car crash… and that there's no such thing as magic… _Right?_"

His wife had gone very pale, whereas his daughter looked confused, but as though she was hiding something.

"Dear," his wife said at last, "I honestly don't know what to tell you."

The expression on her husband's face then became stony hard, as though he was angry but trying to hide it. "Oh, you don't have to tell me anything, _dear_," he spat acidly, and she flinched at that, "because I know that magic exists… and that you've been hiding it from me."

With that, he pulled something out which neither of them expected him to have: His daughter's Hogwarts acceptance letter.

"I found this thing in the mail a few months ago, and I just thought it was some kind of joke or prank, so I tossed it aside," he said, his voice thick with anger. "But now, imagine my surprise when I find out that you witches or wizards or whatever you're called _lied to me and tampered with my memory!_"

"Dear, please," his wife said, getting up from the table to try and calm him down, "it wasn't up to me… in fact, I even argued that you shouldn't have been Obliviated – that is to say, had your memory of the event altered…"

"So that's what you call it, then?" he snarled. "I somehow began to remember it last night – after that _thing_ attacked me – and now I can't even begin to explain how sickened and disgusted I felt after I realized that my wife, my fiancée at the time, stood back and let them do it so she could safely lie to me all these years!"

His wife tried again to assuage his anger, but to no avail.

"I think we'll have to discuss whether I really want to send my daughter to this place where she can learn all kinds of things to do to people…" he was ranting, when she quickly drew her own wand and tried to cast a simple spell to help him calm down.

But he was prepared for this, and so he was too quick for her; he grabbed her wand-holding hand by the wrist and slammed it aside against a cabinet. However, by doing so, he messed up what she was saying as an incantation for her spell, and so a small fire came out of her wand, which burned him on the arm.

He yelped and screamed in pain as he quickly went over to the sink and turned on the cold water, trying to do anything to quickly stop his arm from burning. He hissed as the icy cold water put out the small fire on his robe, and then inspected the small burn on his forearm.

Anger overcame whatever kind of reason he had in his mind at that moment, and with a scream of absolute fury, he lunged at his wife.

"THAT'S IT!" he screamed loudly. "I'VE ABSOLUTELY HAD IT WITH YOU! YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE WITH YOUR UNNATURAL TRICKS, YOU… _FREAKS!_"

"No, please, listen," she pleaded tearfully as she tried to defend herself without hurting him at the same time. "Those were evil people who did that to your parents, as well as countless other innocent people…"

"AND YOU HAD MY MEMORY ALTERED SO I WOULDN'T REMEMBER IT, SO THE WAY I SEE IT, YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS THEY WERE! YOU'RE ALL THE SAME! I HATE YOU!"

This man was so caught up with beating his wife in a fit of rage that he didn't even notice their daughter cowering in a corner, watching this happen, horrified. He just tuned out his wife begging him to stop, insisting that she loved him.

He then landed a hit on her temple, and the force from the punch actually caused severe trauma. She slumped to the floor, but did not get up again.

That image would be forever burned into the mind of their daughter.

If the father realized what he had done, then he didn't show it. He did, however, toss the Hogwarts letter onto the stove, turn on the flames, and watch it burn. He then picked up his wife's wand and snapped it in half, just to be sure; he would even burn both halves of it later on, when he had the chance.

As if coming out of a trance, he then noticed his daughter, still huddled the corner. "Come here," he said, not exactly menacing but definitely not comforting either.

She vigorously shook her head in protest, but he was getting exasperated, so he stalked over to her and grabbed her by the arm. She tried to resist, but he didn't show her any patience as he slapped her across her face. As she tried to recover from that, he dragged her down to the cellar and all but threw her down the stairs.

"You're not going anywhere for now," he declared. "Not until I figure out what to do with you. I will not allow you to try and do something to me like your mother and her ilk did."

And with that, he slammed the door, as well as propped up a chair under the knob on the other side to hold it in place.

The girl broke down, as she begged, pleaded and cried for her to be let out, saying that she didn't do anything wrong and it wasn't her fault…

But deep within her mind, she was already blaming that dark thing – whatever it was – for irreversibly destroying her life in a single day.

In the meantime, she tried to look for ways to get out of this mess… but it would be a long time until that happened.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning from a blissfully blank sleep. He had had his doubts and things to dwell about the night before, but now, a good night's sleep made him feel somewhat better. 

He changed into a fresh set of clothes and went into the next room to find Hagrid sleeping on the collapsed sofa and snoring quite loudly. Looking out the window, Harry could see that the storm had passed, although the hut and the rest of the rock were quite wet and soaked from the now-gone storm.

The next moment, something came up to the window, and Harry could see an owl with a newspaper in its beak, which began rapping at the window.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Not quite sure what to do, Harry went over and opened the window, thus letting the owl in. It dropped off the newspaper near Hagrid, who was still sleeping, and then went for the giant man's coat.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked the owl, expecting some sort of intelligent response. However, it just continued to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Um, Hagrid?" he said loudly. "There's an owl with a newspaper who's attacking your coat."

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted from where he was.

Harry blinked. "Wait, you mean for the newspaper?"

"Yeah, exactly. Look in the coat, need ter pay him."

Harry was looking through the many pockets of Hagrid's coat, and yet he kept finding things other than money, such as bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags, but he finally managed to find a bunch of coins like which he had never seen before.

"Give him five Knuts," Hagrid said sleepily.

"Knuts? Which ones are those?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five of the little bronze coins, and when the owl held out his leg with the small leather pouch tied to it, Harry put the money in the bag. With that done, the owl flew out the open window.

After Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched, he said to Harry, "Well, it's best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, we gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

As Harry was putting away the other wizarding coins, something else occurred to him, which made him frown.

"Um, Hagrid?"

"Yeah?"

"Exactly how am I going to pay for all those things?"

"Oh, you shouldn't worry about that," Hagrid said to him. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

That question caught Harry off guard. "Actually… to be honest, I never really thought about that."

"Well, don't worry, because they kept all their gold at Gringotts, the wizards' bank, and that'll be our first stop."

"Anyway, as fer Gringotts… just so happens that I have ter do some Hogwarts business fer Dumbledore anyway. I don't think the goblins would like waitin' too long."

Harry nearly did a double take before responding to that.

_"Goblins?"_ he repeated incredulously.

"Yeah – you'd be mad ter try an' rob Gringotts, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, and besides, Gringotts is probably the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe… well, 'cept maybe Hogwarts."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"So, yeh got everythin'? Don't forget yer Hogwarts letter."

"Right," Harry said. "Let me just get my things from my room."

Once Harry made sure he had everything he needed, he returned to go with Hagrid. However, as Harry looked around and saw no boats or anything, he thought about something.

"Hagrid… exactly how did you get here?" he asked.

"I Apparated," Hagrid said simply.

"Come again?"

"Right… well, Apparition… it's basically traveling instantly from one place to another," Hagrid explained. "I don't know how ter best describe it… it's basically like disappearin' from one place an' reappearin' at another on yer own."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I think I get it now."

"However," Hagrid continued, "I can't do that again ter take yeh with me… but fortunately, we do have a means of getting ter land."

With that, Hagrid took out of one of his coat's pockets what looked like a little toy boat. However, with a tap of his pink umbrella, the boat began to grow in size. As that was happening, Hagrid gently placed it in the water, and a few moments later, there was a wooden boat big enough to comfortably hold both of them.

"Nice… but where are the oars?" Harry wondered aloud.

Hagrid had noticed that too. "Well… I don't suppose you'd mind if I were ter… use magic ter speed things up a little?" he asked Harry, giving another sideways glance.

"No, not at all."

"Good. In which case, all aboard!"

After they were both in the boat, Hagrid tapped the side of the boat twice with his pink umbrella, and with that, they were away as they sped towards land.

"So, why would you have to be mad to rob Gringotts?" Harry said. "Not that I'd _want_ to rob it, of course, but I'm just curious."

"Spells, enchantments, that sort of thing," Hagrid said as he unfolded the newspaper. "They say there're dragons guardin' the high security vaults, and then yeh gotta find yer way, because Gringotts is hundreds o' miles under London, yeh see. So, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat, it wouldn't be worth it, because yeh'd die tryin' ter get out."

"Sounds… secure," Harry said lamely as he tried to find the right word to express how amazing that sounded to him.

Hagrid nodded. "Got that right," he murmured as he began reading the newspaper.

As Hagrid turned the page, he muttered some comment about how the "Ministry o' Magic was messin' things up again."

Over the top of the paper, Hagrid could see Harry's blank and curious look. "Oh, well, o' course, there's a Ministry o' Magic… their main job is ter govern over the wizarding society in this country, keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

Harry didn't need to be a genius to figure out that if Muggles knew that magic existed, everything would be thrown into chaos, at the very least.

"Anyway, this Minister, Cornelius Fudge… if yeh ask me, he's a bungler if there ever was one. Lots o' people wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, and so old Fudge got the job. He pelts Dumbledore with owls practically every morning, askin' fer advice."

Harry wasn't really interested in politics, Muggle or magical, and he figured he would still have some time left before he had to start taking an interest in that kind of thing.

So, he just went back to looking around as their boat continued to bring them closer to land.

Soon enough, they arrived as the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, Harry made sure he had everything, and they climbed up the stone steps and onto the street.

Lots of people passing by stared at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station, which didn't surprise Harry, as they had most likely never seen someone so big before. However, at the moment, he was more concerned with just trying to keep up with Hagrid's big strides.

Hagrid was glancing and chuckling at an ordinary parking meter when Harry asked, "Hagrid, did you say there are _dragons_ at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," responded Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd _like_ one?" Harry asked disbelievingly. He had a sudden silly mental image of a dragon being treated and cared for like a pet dog. Did wizards actually do that? Was that even possible?

"Yeah, I've wanted one ever since I was a kid. Anyway, here we are."

They had reached the train station, and fortunately, there was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand what he called "Muggle money," gave the bank notes to Harry so they could buy their tickets.

Predictably, people were staring at Hagrid again, but that may have also been because he took up two seats by himself and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket to confirm that he did.

"Good. There's a list of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't seen the previous day, which turned out to be his list of supplies. He went through it, amazed. All the different things he would need for his uniform… all the different course books he would need… all the other equipment he would need beyond that… he was also mildly amused at the notes for how he could "also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad," as well as the one reminding parents that "FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS."

"Can we really find all this in London?" Harry asked Hagrid, amazed.

"If yeh know where ter go," Hagrid said cryptically and with a wink.

* * *

A/N: So, what do the readers think? 

**Regarding the chapter title… it's a joke on my part about something being done "all in a night's work" as opposed to "all in a day's work." It applies not just to Hagrid alone, but to everyone featured here in this chapter. (It also shows the repercussions of the night's events.)**

I'm basically getting my feet wet to test the water at this point. Fear not, things will NOT be the same as in the book verbatim, and things will be significantly different as things go along… and the more and more time goes on, the more and more things diverge from the canon path…

Just in case any of you were wondering now, no, Hagrid did not make that birthday cake for Harry. Let's just assume that someone else did the actual baking and making of the cake, instead of Hagrid. After all, we can't have Harry suffer or even die from food poisoning, can we?

Also, I'm sorry if I was not very descriptive about the "Fish-Man" and the "evil darkness," or the researcher and his wife, or the family with the witches in it. They will be all identified in time, and they will all be important to the story.

Furthermore… I hope I'm not bothering anyone with all this violence and occasional death. I honestly have no idea why this is coming to me and how it's getting into my story. I'm just trying to write this fanfic and already I'm stacking up a small body count with it.

On one final note: There will be kind of a "parallel plot" to the Philosopher's Stone, with this new object also mixed in.

_Please don't forget to review!_

**_–Quillian_**

**(First posted: May 4, 2007)  
(Last edited: August 22, 2007)**


	7. A VERY SPECIAL DAY

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** This covers the events of the trip to Diagon Alley.

**_IMPORTANT NOTE (7/2/07):_** This chapter has been significantly edited from how it first appeared, so even if you have read how it was before, then you may want to read it again. It is important to note that I have skimmed over the scenes which are essentially unchanged from the book, by minimizing detail and putting in Harry's thoughts and mental commentaries to add something new to it. (By comparison, I have seen a lot of other fics which have copied their sources a heck of a lot more closely than I have with this fic.) However, I have also kept the scene with Draco Malfoy pretty much the same, but the purpose of that is to compare it to the original scenes which I wrote for two other people who appear in this chapter. There is also an extra scene with Pim in it. _And while I'm at it, I would just like to thank not only **Coulsdon**** Eagle** for doing his usual great job, but also **japanese-jew** with his help in revising this chapter, as well as suggesting a few things._

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Six, "The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-quarters."**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX  
A VERY SPECIAL DAY**

Harry had never been to London before at all, so even as Hagrid tried to navigate towards their intended destination, Harry looked around at everything there was while sticking close to Hagrid. Although the Hogwarts groundskeeper seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there a way without magic. There was also a point where he got stuck in the ticket barrier, however briefly, and he did his best not to complain too loudly about how small the seats were.

"Just between you an' me, I'm not quite sure how the Muggles survive without magic," Hagrid said discretely to Harry as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

And so as Hagrid led the way, parting the crowd like an icebreaker ship through an ice-filled Arctic sea, Harry kept alert at all times, on the lookout for something – _anything_ – magical or out of the ordinary, outside of the Dursleys' pristine, no-magic-allowed world. But finally, soon enough, Hagrid stopped and told him…

"This is it, the Leaky Cauldron. This is a very famous place, Harry."

Following Hagrid's gaze, Harry noticed the small pub wedged in between two perfectly normal Muggle stores on either side. But at the same time, he also noticed how no one else seemed to notice the pub, and their eyes just slide from one store on one side to the other store on the other side.

_Made so that only people with magic can notice it and know that it's there… isn't this how Pim disguises the tower?_ Harry thought to himself. _I'll have to tell Pim about his later and ask…_

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby, or at least in Harry's honest opinion. In his honest opinion, this was the kind of place which Aunt Petunia would absolutely refuse to step inside of, even for a fraction of a second. There weren't all that many people in the pub, and yet they managed to spare it from being silent with their low buzz of chatter and conversation.

_I feel like I've walked into one of those paintings from Picasso's Blue Period with all those people hanging out in pubs and other establishments,_ Harry thought to himself, _except these people don't really look miserable… maybe just casual, and in a quiet, good mood._

However, all that buzz stopped when everyone noticed Hagrid entering; from the genial expressions on their faces, Harry could tell that Hagrid must have been a regular here, and a popular one at that. Harry was more than happy to stay out of the spotlight, but then when Hagrid explained why he was here but not getting "the usual" (as the old barkeeper Tom put it) by way of clapping Harry on the shoulder and thus bringing their attention to Harry, the boy began to feel uneasy.

As everyone present in the Leaky Cauldron went silent after Tom announced that Harry Potter was indeed in their midst, Harry realized that he was experiencing his own fame for the first time… and he wasn't so sure that he liked it.

In the moment after the silence, everyone was moving in on him, all of them wanting to shake his hand and tell him what an honor it was to meet him. Harry went along with it, but to be honest, he was just about as nervous as they were excited.

During the brief but frenzied round of handshaking, Harry met all kinds of people such as Dedalus Diggle (who apparently was one of those people during his years at the Dursleys who greeted him when he had no idea why), as well as Professor Quirinius Quirrell (who would be his professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, who also happened to stutter a lot and looked so nervous that Harry wondered why he would have such a job).

Thankfully, Hagrid broke it up after everyone got their fair share of getting to meet Harry Potter.

"Must get on – lots ter buy," Hagrid said at last. "Come on, Harry."

"I'd love to, Hagrid," Harry muttered under his breath so the others couldn't hear him. He shook hands with one of the clientele one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.

After Hagrid made a comment about how famous Harry was and even the trembling Quirrell was keen to meet him, Harry asked if Quirrell was always that nervous. Hagrid replied with how the professor had gone traveling to get some firsthand experience, had run to some trouble with vampires and hags in the Black Forest, and had been scared of just about everything and anything since then.

The mention of things like vampires and hags was making Harry think. He had of course heard about magical creatures like dragons, vampires, hags, phoenixes, unicorns, fairies, elves, and others through Muggle myth, legend and literature, but just how much of them could actually be real? In fact, now that he thought about it, were there even more magical creatures beyond those which Muggles had never even seen or heard about?

_Just how much more is there to this wizarding world than what I thought I knew?_ he wondered.

Meanwhile, Hagrid was counting bricks in the wall above the dustbin while muttering something to himself. After going up three bricks, and then two across, Hagrid tapped one brick in particular three times with the tip of his umbrella. After it opened up from there into a big archway big enough for even Hagrid to go through, they passed through it and allowed it to disappear behind them.

"Welcome," Hagrid said to him with a bit of flair, "to Diagon Alley."

For a brief moment, Harry thought it was a shame that he had only two eyes, because no matter what possible direction he looked in, there was something amazing. There were not only the shops and stores themselves, but all the people outside them, either gazing through their windows or contemplating their purchases. There were places like the Apothecary which sold various ingredients which seemed to come from various plants and animals, places like Quality Quidditch Supplies which sold broomsticks with certain names, models and numbers, places like Eeylops' Owl Emporium which sold owls and only owls, places like Flourish and Blotts which sold books, places like Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions which sold robes…

_A place where owls can be sold like dogs or cats?_ Harry wondered. _A place which sells broomsticks, which have models and numbers like ordinary cars? Whatever kind of wizarding society I expected, this wasn't it…_

Of course, those few shops which Harry had already seen were like the figurative tip of the iceberg. Even though he could probably look at each and every store within a day, it almost looked as though he could spend an entire year getting lost within this small, magical alley.

Soon enough, they were at the wizarding bank known as Gringotts, with what Harry assumed was a goblin doorman ready and waiting to let any clientele inside. The goblin opened the doors for them, magically, with a snap of his fingers, and Harry politely said "Thank you" as they walked in.

The goblin looked shocked and like he was about to fall over. Harry wondered if there was something wrong about what he had just said… or if no one thanked the goblins working here very often.

Now Harry and Hagrid were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved on them, which Harry could see made up a poetic warning. It was a warning for strangers to enter but take heed of what awaited the sin of greed, about how those who take but do not earn must pay dearly in their turn, so if anyone were to seek a treasure here which was never theirs, then those thieves had been warned about finding more than treasure there.

"Interesting," Harry commented. "Poetic, too."

Hagrid nodded. "Yeah, like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and Harry walked in with Hagrid to find himself in the biggest (or at least the most magnificent) bank he had ever set foot in before. Something about this bank made it look as though it was much larger on the inside than how it looked on the outside – and for all Harry knew, maybe magic had something to do with that.

_I wonder if even the Dursleys would have wanted to do business here in a bank like this, even if they would have to deal with magic,_ Harry thought to himself as Hagrid led him over to a counter with a free goblin behind it. However, the next moment, Harry felt some sort of anger growing within him at the thought of the Dursleys…

_Don't think about it,_ a voice in his head told him. _Don't think about them. You're free of them now, and you shouldn't have to wonder what they might have thought about all this magic stuff._

Harry's inner voice was right; he shouldn't have to worry about them, let alone think of them. As he brought his attention back to the present, Hagrid was talking to the goblin about trying to take some gold out of Harry's vault, as well as something called a "You-Know-What" in vault seven hundred and thirteen.

The goblin behind the counter summoned another goblin named Griphook to take them, just as Hagrid was collecting his things and putting them back in his enormous coat, such as a bunch of moldy dog biscuits (_Where did all those come from?_ Harry wondered) and the key to Harry's vault. Once they were all ready to go, Griphook lead them through a pair of doors out of the main hall and down some corridor.

"May I ask what this other thing is?" Harry asked on impulse. "The 'You-Know-What' or whatever it is?"

"Yeh could ask, but I can't tell yeh the answer," Hagrid said mysteriously and cryptically. "This is very secret. Hogwarts business, yeh see. Dumbledore's trusted meh with this, an' it's worth more than me job ter tell yeh that."

"Not a problem," Harry said. "Was just wondering, that's all."

From there, the trio of boy, giant and goblin took a ride on a cart which moved at a hurtling speed, through some great underground labyrinth. The speed itself really didn't bother Harry all that much, but he also grew a little uneasy as he realized that Griphook wasn't steering the cart.

_I hope no one's died on any of these things before,_ Harry thought, a little nervous.

Harry didn't know how long the cart ride took – it could have been mere minutes, or even the better part of an hour – but after the all the sharp turns, the constant rush of cold wind blowing past them, and even the occasional burst of fire which could have been caused by anything from a dragon to underground volcanic activity, they arrived at their destination with a jolting break.

As soon as they stopped beside the small door which was the portal to Harry's vault, Hagrid got out to lean against the wall because he was trembling. "Are you alright?" Harry asked him.

"Those carts," Hagrid mumbled. "I hate 'em…"

Harry didn't press the issue any further.

After Griphook used the key to open the vault, a lot of green smoke came billowing out ("Nothing to be alarmed about," Griphook said casually), and as it cleared, Harry gasped at what he saw inside: Mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and heaps of the little bronze coins which he now knew as Knuts. Harry was so shocked by it all that he barely even registered Hagrid's cheerful comment of "All yours" as he gazed

_Just a handful of this stuff would make me richer than the Dursleys ever were,_ Harry thought with a smirk.

_Oi_ the voice in his head spoke up again. _What did I tell you before about thinking about that?_

Yes, right, of course. He then realized that he didn't like where that train of thought was heading, and so he turned back to the matter of hand.

"Here, take this," Hagrid said, offering a money bag for him to put some money into. Harry gratefully accepted it and began filling it with this fascinating kind of money.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained, "the silver ones are Sickles, an' the bronzes ones are Knuts, as yeh know. It goes twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."

_Twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon?_ Harry went over in his head incredulously. _That sounds so… random, using numbers like 29 and 17 as denominators for currency. Why not just use base numbers like ten or one hundred?_

"Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh," Hagrid's voice was saying as it cut through Harry's thoughts, and the next moment, Harry realized that he was still shoveling the money into the bag, which was now almost completely full.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Harry said, "I was just thinking about something."

"No problem," Hagrid said. After they left the vault and sealed it behind them, the next stop was vault seven hundred and thirteen.

Somewhere in between Harry's vault and the other vault, Harry asked Griphook, "Do you have to work up to this speed, like with the stick shift in cars?"

The goblin gave him a rather confused look and quickly replied, "Err, one speed only."

Once they got there, Griphook magically opened the lock-bereft door by stroking it with one of his long fingers, so Hagrid could enter it and retrieve its only object contained within: A small, grubby package which made Harry wonder just what was so special and important about it.

_Appearances can be deceiving,_ the old proverb rang in his head.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and _please_ don't talk ter me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," Hagrid said.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry reassured him.

* * *

If Pim were just another normal person, living in his tower, he would have been gazing out one of its many windows. However, since he was the tower itself, in a sense, he just settled for using its senses to gaze in multiple directions at once, innocently observing the various people visiting the park and whatever activities they were doing in the middle of this gorgeous, beautiful day.

One of these days, Pim was finally going to make use of his magical abilities to absorb as much information as he could, to see how both the magical and Muggle worlds had changed and evolved over the past fifteen hundred years. He would have done so sooner, but he considered taking care of and helping young Harry Potter to be his first priority, since Harry was in desperate need of guidance and comfort. Pim never regretted making that decision since then, because he knew it to be the right one to make.

He still remembered, with a slight phantom pang to his immaterial heart, how scared and hysterical nine-year-old Harry was when Pim first magically whisked him away to his tower. Pim had been a mentor and surrogate parent figure to enough young children over the course of thousands of years to handle Harry well – even a few children which had had terrible home lives which could compare to the one which Harry had.

Now, more than a year later after Harry first came here to the tower, both of them had made considerable progress towards helping Harry recover to such abuse and neglect by his horrid relatives. Pim could not magically undo all the years of hardship which Harry had suffered in his past, but he could make sure that Harry had many fruitful years to expect in his own future. For example, even while Harry felt the need to do much of the work around himself, he could still have a strong work ethic and take responsibility and be responsible for himself and even have fun at the appropriate times without being a kind of slave to whoever he was living with. In other words, Pim was helping Harry learn to become a normal child – or as much of a normal child as was possible.

However, Pim also had to take into account certain aspects of Harry's own life which happened years ago – especially having to do with this dark wizard who called himself "Voldemort" who was responsible for his parents' deaths.

Pim admitted to himself that he kept a close watch on Harry the past night, starting from a few minutes before midnight to when the giant man – what was his name? ah yes, Rubeus Hagrid – had finished his explanation about what happened to Harry's parents. After Harry and that schools' gamekeeper had gone to sleep, Pim had recalled his tiny bright light (he _really_ had to think of a name for them one of these days!) and left it at that.

Granted, Pim felt a little guilty about keeping a close yet secretive watch on Harry at all, even after he gave Harry the Recaller and clear instructions to return immediately if the young boy sensed that anything was amiss. Pim trusted Harry with this, without a doubt, but that didn't mean that Pim couldn't be a little careful, after all.

In retrospect, Pim was glad that he did so, because now he knew about this "Voldemort." Witnessing Hagrid's explanation about this self-styled Dark Lord reminded Pim about his own Dark nemesis… _Amu._

To this day, Pim was not entirely, one-hundred percent sure exactly what caused Amu to go evil. Over and over, during the thousands of years of his "normal" life and this new tower-bound existence, he kept contemplating what happened thousands of years ago and even Amu's own explanation thousands of years after that, just before they dueled to the death.

Pim had witnessed, time and time again, how power corrupted even the best and most noble people if they were not too careful about it, and in addition to that, how normal human beings had a tendency to react and act upon their worst impulses when feeling threatened, sometimes when they ought to think something through first. Often, the more power a person had at his or her command, the more complex things could become… and the more dangerous things could get.

According to Amu herself, the same tribe which had driven him out then turned against her when she began displaying magical powers of her own. From that, Pim could only conclude that the sudden changing of the winds – that is, from her being the "victim" of Pim's demonstration of magic to her being the new outcast once she demonstrated magical abilities herself – was too much for her to handle. In her anger and feelings of betrayal, she must have been unable to rationally deal with it. So, she lashed out at the tribe in revenge. And as the years and decades and centuries and millennia passed, she must have become even more twisted by her bitter emotions.

Or at least that was Pim's theory about it, based on what he knew about her.

Pim was still aware of how he took in Harry, not just to offer him sanctuary but also to "recruit" him in case Amu was somehow still around and he needed help with completely getting rid of her. Pim was going to tell Harry about Amu one of these days, he really was, but first he wanted to make sure of some things, such as Amu actually still being around.

It was interesting, how fate played out like this, so now Harry had his own ghost-like nemesis which was still probably out there somewhere, just as Pim had his own.

In order to appropriately adjust to this, Pim would simply have to do the same thing which he had been doing for thousands of years: _Adapt._

* * *

After another wild cart ride, they were back outside Gringotts and blinking as their eyes adjusted to the sunlight from being in the dark underground areas for so long. Standing there and holding the bag full of money in his hand, Harry battled with this new urge to spend it madly.

_Take it easy, Harry,_ he thought to himself. _You've never gone mad before with whatever money you've had, and now's not the time to start._

However, Hagrid still looked a little ill from their collective rides on the cart, and so with Harry understanding, Hagrid excused himself to slip over to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up while Harry went to Madam Malkin's for the robes which he needed for Hogwarts.

After Harry entered the shop, Madam Malkin set him up next to another boy who was already in the process of being fitted for his own robes. This other boy was pale, and had a pointed face, platinum blond hair, and cold gray eyes.

"Hello," the other boy said, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," Harry said.

_Well, nothing wrong with making a little conversation,_ Harry thought to himself.

This other boy then continued in a bored, drawling voice about how his father was buying his books and his mother was looking at wands, about how he then wanted to drag his parents to look at racing brooms after that, about how he didn't see why first years couldn't have their own brooms, and how he was planning to bully his father into getting him one and then smuggling it in somehow.

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley, although he made a mental note to not let his memories of his awful cousin affect his judgment for someone he had never met before. Still, that same spoiled attitude was there, which made Harry want to be careful around this other boy in the future.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" the other boy went on.

"No, I haven't." _Why does that sound so accusatory, the way he says it?_

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said simply, trying as much as possible not to sound rude as he said it. _How do you tell someone like him to be quiet or that you don't want to talk to them, without sounding rude yourself?_ Harry wondered. _And what's Quidditch, anyway?_

"_I_ do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No, not yet," Harry said, going along with it and pretending that he knew what the other boy was talking about. Harry could tell that this other boy was the kind who liked to talk and hear the sound of his own voice, but wanted someone to listen to as well.

Meanwhile, this other boy just continued with his monologue: "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in a house like Ravenclaw, or maybe Hufflepuff, or Merlin forbid, even Gryffindor, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Hmm," Harry said, wishing he knew what the other boy was talking about and that he himself could say something more interesting in return.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy said suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice cream cones to show that he couldn't come in with them.

"That's Hagrid," Harry said, "he works at Hogwarts."

_Finally, something I know which he doesn't…_

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him… he's sort of like a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry said, doing his best to continue to be as polite as possible, even as he liked this other boy less and less every second. Something about him just annoyed Harry, as open-minded as he tried to be…

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"That can't be true," Harry said, frowning.

"How would _you_ know?" the boy sneered.

"Well, do you really think he'd be allowed to keep his job if he really did do stuff like that?" Harry pointed out rationally.

The sneer on the boy's face vanished as he considered it. "Perhaps," he admitted at last, "but now that I think about it, what's he doing here with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry said shortly, unable to think of any better way to put it.

"Oh, sorry," said the other boy, although he didn't sound sorry at all, but was saying it more just for the sake of saying it. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

Something about the way he said that made Harry feel a little uneasy, the way in which he said "_our_ kind." "Well, they _were_ a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean?"

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even _heard_ of Hogwarts until they get the letter, or so I imagine. I think they should keep it strictly in the old wizarding families. Now that I think about it… what's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer that last particular question, Madam Malkin announced, "That's it, you're done, my dear," and Harry, who didn't mind an excuse to stop talking to the other boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," the drawling boy said as Harry departed the store with a quick "Good-bye" just for the sake of being polite.

_Finally! He's gone_, Harry thought to himself._ I don't think I could have lasted much longer with him around, anyhow…_

"Thanks, Hagrid," he said as he enjoyed the ice cream which Hagrid brought him, which was chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts. However, he was still rather quiet, and not just from eating the ice cream, and Hagrid must have caught onto this, because he asked, "Is something on your mind, Harry?"

"No, not really," Harry said as he finished his ice cream, but he was only being partially honest. After a moment, he decided to admit that there was something bothering him. The moment after that, he finally spoke up and told Hagrid about the boy in the shop and what he said.

In response to this, Hagrid calmed Harry down and reminded him that he wasn't from a Muggle family, and that what the boy said shouldn't bother him.

Harry could see Hagrid's point. "Thanks, Hagrid. So, what _is_ Quidditch?"

"It's our sport, and everyone in the wizarding world follows it. It's… kind of like football in the Muggle world, but it's played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls – sorta hard to explain all the rules, sorry."

"Oh, don't worry, that's fine. Also… what are Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor?"

"They're all the school Houses, all four o' them. They're named after the four who founded the school centuries ago. All o' them value different things in the students."

"I wonder which one I would be in," Harry wondered out loud.

"Well, if yeh ask me – an' this is just me personal opinion, mind you – any o' the other three would be better than Slytherin," Hagrid said seriously. "As far as I know, there's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who himself was one."

Harry's head snapped up at that. "_He_ went to Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," Hagrid said darkly.

As unwelcoming as Slytherin sounded, between the pale boy from Madam Malkin's and what Hagrid had to say, Harry told himself to keep an open mind and not let other people's experiences form his own before he could judge for himself. Surely Slytherin couldn't be all _that_ bad… it sounded almost like saying that everyone back in the Dursleys' neighborhood was as bad as the Dursleys were just because his horrible relatives lived there himself.

Just as Harry was finishing up his ice cream, an owl flew in from above and landed on Hagrid's shoulder, bearing a sealed message in its beak.

"It's from Hogwarts," Hagrid noted as he accepted the message from the owl and then reached into his pocket to give the owl something in return. "Here," he told the owl, "have an Owl Treat."

The owl hooted in gratitude and eagerly accepted it while Hagrid read the message. Harry wondered what was going on as he saw the look at the gamekeeper's face fall.

"I don't believe this," Hagrid said, actually groaning a little.

"What is it?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I have ter back ter Gringotts ter get somethin' else from one o' the other vaults," Hagrid said disbelievingly. "That means _another_ ride on one o' those infernal carts…"

Sighing, Hagrid said to Harry, "I really hate ter do this ter yeh, Harry, 'cause I know yeh expected meh to help yeh with shoppin' fer school… but do yeh think yeh might be able ter manage without me?"

"Hagrid, please, it's not a problem," Harry reassured him. "We'll both just go do what we have to do."

Hagrid smiled. "Thanks, Harry. Anyway, yeh might want ter go get some quills, ink, an' parchment at the store over there," he said as he pointed the store out to him. "Then yeh might want ter get yer books at Flourish an' Blotts after that."

"Right, thanks."

And so Harry's next stop was the store which sold the quills, ink, parchment, and other such writing material. Harry was amused by the bottle of ink he found, which changed colors as a person wrote with it, and so he added that to all the normal ink which he had to get as well.

He was just picking out some simple yet decent quills when he heard someone grumbling nearby. He turned to see a boy about his age, who was tall, lanky, and had red hair and freckles, who looked distinctly unhappy about something.

Harry decided to ignore it, and so as he was just collecting rolls of parchment when he heard the red-haired boy's grumbling a little more distinctly so he could just make out some of the words: "…Of course, practically the one time you get something of your own which is brand-new and hasn't been used before, it's something which can only be used once, like quills or ink or parchment… everything else, like books and clothes and even your wand, you get from your older brothers…"

Harry accidentally dropped the rolls of parchment he was holding, and the other boy turned to look at him.

"What are you looking at?" he said a little rudely.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, hoping he hadn't offended the other boy in any way. "I was just getting some parchment, and as you can see, I accidentally dropped it."

"You weren't spying on me or anything, were you?" the other boy asked a little suspiciously.

"No," Harry said honestly. Well, at least he figured that was the honest answer, since he wasn't deliberately spying on the other boy, who was making himself a little louder and thus easier to be heard.

The freckled boy continued to eye him for a moment or so, and said, "Fine. If you say so."

After a moment, in which Harry decided to go back to collecting what he needed for school, he heard something from the other boy. "I bet you never got hand-me-down clothes and stuff because you never had enough money for it."

Harry froze where he was, the boy's words striking a chord somewhere deep within him. While he found this other boy to be a little abrasive, he could sympathize with him.

"Actually," Harry said quietly as he turned around again to face the freckled boy, "I've been there myself, believe it or not."

The other boy looked stunned, and he even blinked a few times.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, going a little red from embarrassment. "I would never have guessed."

Harry wasn't going to go into a story about how the Dursleys mistreated him – just thinking about them still bothered him – but he supposed he could be vague about it.

"Actually, I might not have any older brothers – or any siblings, for that matter – but for years, I was forced to wear all these hand-me-down clothes which belonged to my cousin, some of which were truly awful."

The freckled boy took all of this in, and looked a little sympathetic in return. "I'm sure your relatives did everything they could, right?"

Harry's face darkened a little as he said, "My relatives didn't like how I had to live with them, and so they absolutely refused to spend any more on me than they had to. Trust me, poverty was not an issue for them. My cousin, on the other hand, was spoiled senseless. I'm sure my relatives could have spent an equal amount on both of us, but they just chose not to."

The other boy looked shocked. "Are you serious?" he said quietly.

Harry nodded grimly.

"Wait, you said you had to live with your relatives… why, what happened to your parents?"

Something about this freckled boy made Harry trust him a little more than the pale boy, although he wasn't quite sure what, and so he decided to be a little more open about the topic of his parents.

"They're dead," Harry told him, but before he could elaborate a little more, the freckled boy asked, "Were they killed in the war against You-Know-Who?"

Harry looked a little surprised as this boy's wild guess, but he said, "Yeah, they were."

"Sorry to hear that," the freckled boy said with complete sincerity, which in itself was a far cry from the pale boy, or at least in Harry's honest opinion. "I'm pretty sure a few of my relatives were also killed by You-Know-Who or his followers."

After a moment, the freckle boy looked as though something else had occurred to him, because he then asked, "Do you know yet which house you might be in at Hogwarts?"

_What is it with these people and houses at Hogwarts?_ Harry wondered. "No, sorry, I don't."

"Well, all of my family has been in Gryffindor," the other boy said matter-of-factly, "so I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up there. Probably wouldn't be so bad… but imagine being put in Slytherin, of all places, I'd probably prefer just getting on the train and going back home if it ever came to that, Merlin forbid."

This freckled boy was turning out to be an uncanny opposite from the other boy back in Madam Malkin's shop, or so Harry thought.

"I haven't been able to read any books on the subject of Hogwarts, or at least not just yet," Harry responded. "I still have to get my books for school, anyway."

"I'm sure my brothers will have enough secondhand books for me," the freckled boy said, and Harry could still sense a small trace of disappointment in his voice, caused by not having the money to be able to get new things.

"You know, that may not be such a bad thing," Harry said, trying to make the other boy feel a little better.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously, its not a good thing when the used book has scribbles or missing pages or something like that," Harry elaborated, "but sometimes whoever had the book in the past might have scribbled in little notes which might help with the subject which the book is on."

The freckled boy looked thoughtful as he digested these words. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

"No problem," Harry said.

"What's your name?" the freckled boy asked him.

Harry was actually about to answer the question this time around, but then there was a blur of red hair and freckles as a girl not much younger than either of them came rushing up to them. "Come on, Mum says we have to get moving!" she told the other boy.

"My younger sister," the other boy said by way of explanation, and Harry could see the resemblance.

"Maybe I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," Harry said.

"Sure thing," the other boy said. As he made to leave with his sister, he exclaimed, "All right, all right, I'm coming! Blimey…"

With that, Harry got what he needed from this particular shop, paid for his purchases, and made his way to the bookstore from there.

Harry bought his school books from Flourish and Blotts, whose shelves were stacked to the ceiling itself with countless books on diverse subjects. There were books of all sizes, books bound and covered with all kinds of different materials, books with normal writing in them, unusual symbols which Harry had never seen before (even with what he knew from Pim), or nothing in them at all. In fact, he had a shrewd feeling that even Dudley, who never read anything unless he absolutely had to, would have been wild about getting his hands on some of these books, just because of how valuable they appeared to be.

After Harry purchased all his books, he decided to wait around for a little while for Hagrid to return. As he was deciding whether or not to start reading his school books which he would be using for the next year or so, the title of one particular book caught his eye: _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

Harry wasn't malicious like some other people he knew, but still, something about that book sounded appealing to him. Besides, this sort of thing could be useful if he wanted to distract other people so he could get away; after all, he wasn't the kind to fight when he didn't have to. He just wanted to defend himself. So, deciding to merely browse through it, he took it off the shelf and began reading it, fascinated by its contents.

Of course, this kind of subject was the only thing which interested Harry. He might also look for books on Wizarding history, just to get caught up on things, and maybe even include a basic book about Quidditch.

_Wouldn't Pim be interested in these?_ Harry mused as he looked it. _And I don't just mean the particular curses in this book, I mean all this new knowledge which has developed before he and his tower first went into stasis._

A few minutes later, there was a small commotion as a girl carrying a considerably large stack of books accidentally tripped and ended up dropping them, causing them to land in a small pile on the floor. "Oh dear," the girl said, a little upset at what just happened.

"Here, let me help you," Harry said, putting the book back on the shelf for a moment as he tried to help her.

"Oh, thank you," the girl said, relieved. She a long mane of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, as well as an excited look on her face at the moment. "Thank you very much! I'm looking forward to reading these new books for school, and it would be a shame if anything happened to them before then, let alone before I even paid for them!"

She seemed to be able to say lots of words with a single breath, probably more than other people could. Harry could also tell that she could qualify as a "bookworm" according to some people. Harry wouldn't consider himself to be one, and for the most part, he read a lot as far back as he could remember more because he needed a distraction to try and make himself stop thinking about his lot with the Dursleys… that and the fact that reading was a very useful skill for a person to have, especially in the modern world.

"You're also going to Hogwarts?" the other girl asked. "I had no idea that magic even _existed_ until I got that letter, and it made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever, or at least until someone from Hogwarts came to explain it all to me, after which I was so very excited and more than willing to try it out."

"To answer your question," Harry said, trying to backtrack through the girl's words, "yes, I'm also going to Hogwarts."

"Wow, this is so exciting!" she exclaimed happily.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Harry said, although he found himself as unable to relate to this girl just about as much as with those other two boys, even though she seemed to have a non-magical upbringing like he did.

"Just so I understand," he began to say, asking her something instead for a change, "you have also had a non-magical upbringing?"

"Why, yes, of course, my parents are just ordinary, non-magical people, but at least they're open-minded, unlike some other people who would probably just panic over it, God forbid," the girl replied with another one of her long-winded answers. "Why, how about you?"

_Well, at least now I get to meet someone who's also had a Muggle upbringing, just for a switch._ "My parents were a witch and wizard, but I grew up with Muggles," he said simply and not elaborating – after all, he didn't want to talk about the Dursleys more than he had to.

If the girl picked up on how he described his own parents in the past tense, then she didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I heard that Hogwarts is actually a _castle_ – just think about it, we'll be in a castle like those built centuries ago, the kind of which haven't been built since!"

Harry could certainly understand her enthusiasm, especially given his residence at the Tower of Pim and tutelage under Pim himself. "I see what you're saying," he said sincerely.

"Oh, by the way," the girl said suddenly, as something occurred to her, "what's your name?"

But before Harry could answer, a shadow loomed over both of them, and Harry turned around to see –

"Hagrid!"

The giant man chuckled. However, looking closer, Harry could see that he looked a little flushed. He could also see another package in Hagrid's hand, wrapped in the same kind of brown paper; however, this particular package was shaped almost like a bell jar. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm fine," he said seemingly automatically, as he also shoved this other package into another one of his pockets as discretely as he could. "So, you got yer books?"

"Yeah," Harry said, holding up his bag full of purchased books.

"Time ter go, then."

"Right." Turning back to the girl, he said, "I suppose I'll see you at Hogwarts, then."

"You too!" she said excitedly. As he and Hagrid left the store, Hagrid leaned against the doorpost for one moment, breathing heavily.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I had ter go ter _another_ vault in Gringotts on _another_ one o' those carts of theirs," Hagrid grumbled. "I also ended up… I can't say it, I'm too embarrassed."

"It's alright, Hagrid, you can tell me."

Hagrid looked around uneasily, and finally said, "Okay." Leaning down to whisper in Harry's ear, he said, "I threw up."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "Oh, you didn't…"

Hagrid nodded. "We were passin' a whole row o' vaults when I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I didn't want ter throw up in the cart, obviously, and I turned away, and… I threw up over a whole row o' vaults, ones which belonged to wealthier families."

"Yikes," Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I hope you're not going to get in trouble over this. Then again, at least this might make the people working at Gringotts more open to suggestions about being able to change the speed of the carts."

Hagrid snorted. "Got that right. On the other hand, when you consider just whose vaults those were…"

"What do you mean?"

Hagrid lowered his voice so much that even Harry himself could barely hear it. "There's quite a few families who believed You-Know-Who's rubbish and followed him. After yeh beat him and he vanished, they were claimin' that You-Know-Who somehow forced 'em to obey an' follow him, an' that they had no choice in the matter. Utter hogwash, if yeh ask me, considerin' how they felt the same way as You-Know-Who an' only needed ter be persuaded ter join that insane cause o' his."

"And these questionable families… they were the ones whose vaults you…?"

Hagrid nodded grimly, still quite embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Hagrid, your secret is safe with me," Harry reassured him. "Besides, from the way you put it, these sound like the kind of people who could make others sick either way."

Hagrid chuckled. "Good one, Harry." Clearing his throat and raising his voice to normal levels again, he said, "Right, then… you've also got yer writin' supplies and yer books… so where to next?"

Now that Hagrid was done getting whatever it was from Gringotts, and for good this time, they continued on with their shopping. Soon enough, Harry got a few other things which he needed, such as a pewter cauldron, a nice set of scales for weighing potions ingredients, a collapsible brass telescope, and a myriad of various items as potion ingredients from the Apothecary.

Once they were back outside the Apothecary, both of them were consulting the list again when Hagrid realized that, aside from Harry's wand, he still hadn't gotten a birthday present yet. So, Hagrid suggested that as Harry really should have a wizard's familiar, he should treat Harry to one of those. Harry tried to dissuade Hagrid, telling him that it really wasn't necessary and that he didn't have to do that, but Hagrid insisted on it. Hagrid then went on to say that toads went out of style years ago, cats caused him allergies, and so an owl was a good idea, because they also delivered mail for their owners.

With that, Harry decided to concede. He was also a little worried if this might count as favoritism, with the Hogwarts groundskeeper – fine, perhaps not an actual professor, but a member of the faculty still – giving him something special. However, he decided not to worry about it, and so he went with it.

So with that, they went to Eeylops Owl Emporium.

From the moment they stepped inside, it had been dark, as though the natural light from outside decided to simply stop at the front door. Harry wasn't surprised – after all, owls were nocturnal creatures and preferred the dark. There was also something interesting yet strangely eerie about all the rustling from the owls themselves and their many pairs of flickering, jewel-bright eyes.

They saw a young woman who was working there – she was probably fresh out of Hogwarts, for all Harry knew – go around with huge boxes of Owl Treats and empty them in huge communal bowls which the owls fed from. There was a feeding frenzy as all the birds tried to get to the bowls nearest to them, which reminded Harry of the times at Mrs. Figg's house when she would feed her cats and they would all come running towards it.

After several minutes, the owls were all done and content with their meals, and all went back to various places scattered around the store. However, Harry saw one owl still stare at the bottom of a bowl of which she was standing on the edge, and while owls couldn't visibly display emotions the same way humans could, this particular owl looked disappointed.

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for this owl, as he remembered times when the Dursleys had stuffed themselves with food which he cooked, and he was only allowed to have what was left over, if there was anything left at all.

_Bottom of the pecking order, huh?_ Harry thought. _Yeah, I can sympathize with that._

"You're interested in that snowy owl?" the employee said, cutting through Harry's thoughts. He turned around and said to her, "Um, yeah… it looks like a nice owl…" The truth was that Harry didn't know if there was any sort of proper way to go about choosing an owl.

The employee took reached into a small bowl on the front desk and took out small block of food. "Here's an Owl Treat," she said as she handed it to him. "Try offering it to the owl, see if she likes it, maybe she might like you."

"Thanks," Harry said as he accepted it. He then walked over to where the snowy owl sat on her perch, and it turned to look at him, curiously.

"Hello," Harry said kindly as he held out his hand for the owl to accept the small offering in his hand. "Here, take it."

The owl happily did so, and after she was done eating it, she hooted something to him out of gratitude.

"Glad to help," Harry said, going along with it.

The next moment, the owl extended her wings and hopped off her perch and onto Harry's shoulder. He held out his arm, and the owl made her way down onto his arm, where she wasn't so close to his face. She turned to look at him again, continuing to hoot softly.

"I'd say she likes you," the employee said. "She hasn't been very receptive to many other people since she was born."

"Why, how long as she been here?" Harry asked her.

"Only for a year or so, since she was born."

Carefully and as not to alarm her, Harry slowly raised his other hand to try and pet her. He gently stroked her feathers, and she seemed to like it. Then she made a sudden gesture which took Harry by surprise, and nipped at one of his fingers before he could retract it in time.

"Oh, don' worry, Harry," Hagrid chuckled. "She's jus' nippin' yer fingers, it means she likes yeh. She's not gonna tear 'em off or anythin'."

Harry laughed a little. _This owl seems as good as any,_ he thought to himself. Something about this owl just seemed _right_ to him, for want of a better word. "So," he asked the owl, "would you like to come with me?"

The owl seemed to be contemplating that, but only for a moment, and after that she gave an eager hoot, indicating that she would like that very much.

"I'll take her," Harry said, turning to the store employee.

And so, after Harry chose out a simple yet nice cage for the owl, she hopped inside and put a wing over her head and went to sleep while Hagrid paid for the owl and cage.

After they left and on the way to the shop which sold wands, Harry was thanking Hagrid profusely, over and over again, while Hagrid told him not to mention it.

Something then occurred to Harry. "Hagrid… do people – that is, witches and wizards – do they still use staffs?"

"Staffs?" Hagrid repeated incredulously. "Never heard before o' anyone usin' staffs these days! We've been usin' wands since the time o' the Founders."

"Ah, okay. Was just wondering."

A magic wand… he didn't mind using the staff which Pim gave him a year ago, but this still sounded exciting nonetheless.

Within minutes, they were at the store Mr. Ollivander, the maker of wands. It was a narrow and shabby place, but it also looked to Harry like a cross between a library (because it was so quiet and ordered) and a Muggle shoe store (because it had so many boxes on its selves). But appearances aside, Harry could swear that almost _felt_ something, as if all the magic contained within the store was acknowledging him.

They had to wait for a few moments or so, but soon enough, old Mr. Ollivander with his moon-like eyes came to greet them to his store. In a calm manner, Mr. Ollivander spoke of how he had been expecting to see Harry soon, but then reminisced about his mother and father, even what kinds of wands they had themselves.

_Of course,_ Harry thought to himself. _Even my parents had to be my age at one point. I wonder what they were like back then…?_

But when Mr. Ollivander got a closer look at Harry's scar, he finally trailed off from his monologue and revealed in an apologetic way how he had been the one who made and sold the wand that did it. As Mr. Ollivander moved on, Harry took a silent moment to digest that shocking little tidbit of information.

_I guess even Voldemort had to start somewhere… he probably can't have been born evil, but still, to know these little things about him…_ Harry shook a little as he resisted the involuntary urge to shudder, but fortunately, no one else noticed this.

Across the room, Mr. Ollivander was warmly greeting Hagrid, but even that quickly turned into a small interrogation of sorts about the fate of Hagrid's wand and where the remains of it were now. While this was happening, Harry noticed Hagrid tightly gripping the purple umbrella behind his back.

_I wonder…?_ Harry thought to himself. He also remembered how it blasted the hole in the hut wall just the previous night.

However, Mr. Ollivander let the subject drop and then got back to the matter at hand. He had Harry hold out his "wand arm" (Harry was right-handed), and from there, Mr. Ollivander's tape measure began to do a bunch of unexpected, unusual and seemingly random measurements of all kinds of lengths all over Harry's body. While the magical tape measure was doing that, Mr. Ollivander was explaining something about how the magical cores for the wands came from all kinds of different magical creatures like dragons, unicorns and phoenixes, about how no two wands were the same, and how it was really the wand that chooses the wizard…

Soon enough, the measurements were done, and Mr. Ollivander got to having Harry tried out wands. And so Harry tried wand after wand, barely getting the chance to wave one before Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand and made him try the next one available. And yet, that whole time, Mr. Ollivander seemed to become happier with each wand Harry tried.

Harry, on the other hand, was becoming more frustrated, even though he tried his best to keep himself calm. _You know, at this rate, I'd just rather use the staff which Pim gave me last year. But no, because then, I'd have to explain to everyone where I got it from. So, I guess this will have to do…_

After a comment about Harry being a "tricky customer," Mr. Ollivander proffered him a wand, which according to him was "holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand, and actually waited for a moment to see if Mr. Ollivander would just snatch that one back as well, but he just nodded encouragingly for him to try. Harry felt a sudden warmth in his hand from where he held the wand, one which he hadn't felt before with the other ones. Something told him that this wand might be the one for him… well, Harry figured, only one way to find out…

He held the wand above his head and brought it down in a sweeping motion. After a moment, however, nothing had happened. All three of them – Harry, Hagrid, and Mr. Ollivander – were looking quite disappointed, but then Harry noticed something…

"The tip of the wand," he observed. "Look."

A small yet very bright light appeared on the end of his wand, and it glowed fiery colors. The ball of light grew bigger, until it was about the size of a marble. It grew bigger still, until it was about the size of Harry's thumb, and everyone could see the shifting red and gold colors. It finally grew to about the size of a ping-pong ball when Harry suddenly had a gut feeling about it, and so he pointed it back up in the air and away from the others…

The next moment, there was an almighty deafening _BANG_ as the light exploded, sending red and gold sparks flying everywhere, dancing around the room. Harry could feel himself shaking from the power of the blast, and unless his senses were deceiving him, he could actually feel the shop shaking on its foundations a little.

As the barrage of light and sound subsided, everyone regained their senses. Mr. Ollivander looked truly stunned and surprised, while Hagrid was rubbing his eyes after that experience. Outside, a few people passing by had stopped to regard the shop curiously after witnessing what seemed to them like an explosion from within it. Harry's new pet owl had awoken in her cage, and was making some grumpy hooting noises as if to tell the others to cease with the noise and racket so she could get some sleep.

Harry, however, felt as though he had done something wrong and was now being caught in the act of doing whatever it was. "I'm sorry," he said nervously. "I didn't mean to do that…"

But he did not anticipate them giving him positive reactions. Hagrid whooped and clapped while Mr. Ollivander cried things like, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good."

However, as Mr. Ollivander was putting Harry's wand back in its box, he kept muttering something about how "curious" it was, until Harry finally spoke up and asked the old wand maker what he was talking about.

Mr. Ollivander looked him straight in the eye, connecting his pair of pale yet bright eyes to Harry's vivid green eyes, and he spoke: "I keep track of and know every wand I've ever sold, and to whom, Mr. Potter – _every single wand_ – and yet the phoenix which gave its tail feather for your wand gave only one other tail feather. This brother wand, thirteen-and-a-half inches long and made of yew… it is the wand which gave you that scar.

"Bear in mind, Mr. Potter, that even armed with only a wand, wizards and witches can do great things – also terrible things, yes, but also great things. Take care, Mr. Potter, and remember to control your power, and not let it control you."

For the first, last, and only time that very special day, Harry felt uneasy and swallowed hard as the ramifications of it all hit him.

Harry really had nothing against Mr. Ollivander, but all this creepy talk was just beginning to bother him. He paid seven Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

Harry didn't look back, and was deep in thought as he contemplated the wand-maker's words…

* * *

It was late in the afternoon as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back through the Leaky Cauldron, which was now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road, and he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, seeing how they were laden with all their funny-shaped packages, along with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. After they went up another escalator, and out into Paddington station, Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Do you want ter stop ter eat somewhere before we go back?" Hagrid asked him.

"I've got stuff back at the hut, don't worry," Harry said.

Soon enough, Harry and Hagrid were back at the boat, and they sped back to the hut on the rock, out at sea, along with all the packages from their shopping trip. Harry watched idly as their boat left a trail in the water behind them, and he just kept looking at it. Somehow, things seemed much stranger to him than when this very same day began, and it had nothing to do with how it was now towards the end of the day itself.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. True, he had just had the best birthday ever in his life, or at least as far as he knew, and yet at the same time, he felt like he was being bogged down by something. Part of him wanted so much to explain to Hagrid how he felt and why he felt that way, except years' worth of conditioning by the Dursleys to make him stay quiet and not speak his mind were preventing him from doing so.

However, after a moment, the year or so of counter-conditioning under Pim's protection and guidance helped him get his feelings out – while making sure that he didn't accidentally reveal anything about Pim or such.

At last, Harry put his thoughts and feelings into words: "Everyone thinks I'm special… well, okay, everyone is special in their own way, but I mean it in that I'm something else from the rest of them. I'm sure all those other people who I met have had full, complete magical educations while I haven't even started at Hogwarts yet, and yet they all look at me like I'm better or more powerful than any of them. Even by their standards, I'm not normal, but something else entirely. And I only just found out about my parents and everything else less than twenty-four hours ago."

Harry didn't see it, because he was gazing out into the distance, but Hagrid was momentarily surprised by the look in Harry's eyes, betraying deep thoughts and insight. There was obviously much more to the son of James and Lily Potter than met the eye.

Eventually, Harry turned to see Hagrid giving him a kind smile.

"You shouldn' worry, Harry, I'm sure you'll learn fast enough. Just try ter be yerself. You might be there ter learn, but you ought ter have a great time… now that I think abou' it, I still have a great time there meself."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he murmured.

Actually, Harry thought privately to himself, he was beginning to feel rather bothered about it all. In the Muggle world – especially living with the Dursleys – he was an outcast, made that way by his relatives, and at first, the magical world with its wizard citizens sounded like an ideal place where he could fit in and be happy. But now, with all this talk about what he had supposedly done as a baby, what all these other people thought of him, and what they all expected him to do… he just didn't know anymore.

Hagrid helped Harry carry everything from the boat back into the hut, and after they were done with that, the giant then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September a' King's Cross – it's all on yer ticket. Any problems at all, or any questions you want ter ask me, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where ter find me… See yeh soon, Harry."

"I will Hagrid. Thanks again… for everything."

Harry bade him farewell and went inside the hut. As he passed by one of the hut's front windows, he saw Hagrid casually walk down towards the shore, but not towards the boat; he looked away for a split second, but when he looked outside again, he saw that Hagrid had gone.

* * *

After a few minutes, Harry got everything together, from what he had brought with him when he first came to this rock to what he had just brought back from his trip with Hagrid. Finally, once everything was neatly stacked and piled around him, he said aloud, "Okay, Pim, I'm ready to go now."

One of those white lights, which Pim and Harry had yet to think of a name for, materialized only a few feet away from him.

"So, how was your day?" Pim's voice asked through the small ball of white light. "It must have been very productive, too, judging by how long you were out and what you brought back with you."

"Yeah, it was. I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long, Pim."

"Nonsense, Harry. Anyway, time to return back to the tower. But wait… what is this?"

The white light came up to and hovered in front of the beautiful snowy owl, still sleeping in her cage but looking as though she might wake up at any moment.

"Oh, um, a birthday gift from someone else," Harry explained.

"Ah, just checking. Well, I'll make it so she can see the tower, know about it, and live in it, so no worries there. Very well, then, it's time to return."

The white light then dashed around, touching things and thereby transporting them back to the Tower of Pim. Once that was all done, the light sped towards Harry, and he was gone in a flash.

* * *

A/N:So, what do the readers think?

**Regarding the chapter title… it refers not only to Harry's eleventh birthday, but also the day when he first learns about his past and returns to the Wizarding World.**

Regarding the reference to Picasso and his Blue Period… okay, first of all, I promise right here and now not to try and stump my fans with art history references like that. Anyway… during his Blue Period, he didn't always paint his pictures predominantly in blue, and a lot of them dealt with people drinking as part of the subject matter. (Understandably, the artist was going through a rough time in his life.) Somehow, these images came to mind while writing the scene for the Leaky Cauldron.

I also decided to show the scene where Harry gets his pet owl, which we never see in the books (although I don't know if this is exactly how it would have got in the canon books, but I guess that doesn't matter here).

It has never been said in the books (at least not thus far) whether Harry's vault as first seen in Book 1 is his own _personal_ vault or is his _family's_ vault. I'll figure that out later… Either way, let's just assume that he has more than enough money in the vault shown to get through Hogwarts and get started on a career after that. Also, the _"Just a handful of this stuff…"_ line is an allusion to the _Aladdin_ movie made by Disney back in the early 1990s, when Aladdin makes a similar comment after seeing the treasures in the Cave of Wonders.

The thing with Harry asking about the cart and its speed being like the stick shift in a car… **japanese-jew** pitched that idea.

Also, you might notice how I gave Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy all somewhat equal time and appearances, even though I didn't mention any of them by name. Trust me, I did it that way for a reason…

Besides… notice Hagrid taking two packages, instead of just one.

Other notable points of difference include Harry first trying his wand at Mr. Ollivander's shop and the results of that. (I also made it so he didn't touch Harry's forehead and trace his scar… now that's just too creepy.) I also changed Mr. Ollivander's words of wisdom and advice to something else which I liked.

_Please don't forget to review!_

**_–Quillian_**

**(First posted: May 16, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)


	8. SUMMER OF CHANGE

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**SPECIAL DISCLAIMER:** The British bank Coutt's & Co. is an actual bank that does exist, and was recommended to me by my wonderful beta-reader **Coulsdon** **Eagle**. As is the case with Snowdonia National Park, I'm sure that the people in charge won't mind me using a real place in my story.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: It took so long for me to update this because I had a lot of difficult work I had to do, which seriously put a dent in my time for writing. I am posting it today (July 2, 2007) because it's my 21st birthday, and so you all get a big fat chapter.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Seven, "The Sorting Hat."**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
SUMMER OF CHANGE**

Harry and all his possessions were back in his room in the Tower of Pim. After being away for nearly two days, it was good to be back in the place which he considered to be home.

"It's good to have you back, Harry," Pim said as his avatar appeared.

"It's good to be back, Pim," Harry said happily.

Just then, however, there were hooting noises, and both of them turned to see the snowy owl waking up in her cage.

"Good morning," Harry said automatically, but then realized what time of day it was and quickly amended it to "Good evening."

The owl seemed to understand, since this boy who was now her master had probably never greeted a nocturnal being such as her before. "Good evening to you too."

However, barely a moment later, she was looking alarmed and confused with where she was now. "Where am I? I don't know what or where this place is!"

"Hey, don't worry, girl, it's alright, you're safe here," Harry said reassuringly as he opened the cage for her. She hopped out and landed on his forearm, looking around erratically and her talons digging into his arm as though she were clutching onto him for support.

Pim realized that the tower's hidden status must have been interfering with that innate sense which owls had which allowed them to navigate and find their way around the world.

"Hello, owl," Pim said kindly, and she swiveled her head back around to face him. "My name is Pim. I am or once was a wizard, and my soul has been merged with this tower of mine. I am Harry's guardian and caretaker, and since you are now Harry's familiar, you are just as welcome in my abode."

The owl appeared to be observing Pim curiously, as though looking for any hint of deception or lies. However, after a moment or so, she accepted Pim's explanation with a hoot. "I understand."

"This tower is located but secretly hidden in Snowdonia National Park, in Wales," Pim told her. "This valley is full of rodents and frogs. You should have no problem acquiring food. This tower is protected and kept invisible by a faint golden dome-like barrier which you will notice as you fly through it."

The owl hooted again in understanding. With that, she climbed up onto Harry's shoulder and gave him an affectionate nip on the ear before flying out an open window to go hunting.

"Lovely owl," Pim commented. "I hope you will think of a good name for her."

"Oh, don't worry, I plan to find one."

"So, what did you get?" Pim asked, politely interested in Harry's new supplies.

Harry happily unwrapped his packages and showed Pim his new books and other supplies. Pim looked delighted at seeing some of how magic had changed in progressed in the last fifteen hundred years.

"Oh, and finally, my wand," Harry said proudly as he showed Pim his brand new wand. "According to Mr. Ollivander – that's the wand-maker – witches and wizards stopped using staffs about a generation or so after the Hogwarts founders."

"So I see," Pim commented.

Just then, however, Harry thought of something else. "Um, Pim… I know you gave me that staff for my last birthday, and, well…"

Pim could see what Harry was trying to say with this, and why he was having difficulty in saying it.

"Rest assured, Harry, I am not upset by the fact that you have a magical tool which is newer and preferable to a staff. I gave you that staff for you to keep, and it may yet come in handy."

Harry gave a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Pim."

However, Pim was looking at Harry's wand intently, as though there was something about it which puzzled him.

"What is it, Pim?"

Through Pim's heightened and unique magical senses, he could actually _see_ what one could describe as a small "line" of magic connecting Harry to his wand… and then a line running from the combined magical auras of Harry and his wand to somewhere far out beyond the Tower of Pim. Concentrating, Pim used his magical senses to follow the line out to where it was headed… he could trace it to somewhere in London, to a place deep underground, where many witches and wizards hurried about, and where many important things were located…

_Could this be where the wizarding government is located?_ Pim wondered privately. A few moments later, a more thorough view confirmed his question.

_So, they keep track of young wizards who are listed as students. I'm not saying that that's a bad idea, keeping tabs on young witches and wizards, but unfortunately, this interferes with my ability to teach Harry on my own…_

"Pim?" Harry repeated.

"My apologies, Harry," Pim said. "But I think I have just determined that somehow, your Ministry of Magic can detect whatever magic you may do with your wand… maybe even without it, I am not entirely sure yet."

Harry looked alarmed at first, but then he also looked confused as well. "But they've never detected any magic I've done here before…"

"The wards protecting this tower have shielded you from such detection in the past," Pim explained, "and they still might just as they always have. However, it seems that when you first tried out your new wand earlier today in Ollivander's in Diagon Alley, some sort of magic was activated, which makes it so that the Ministry of Magic monitors your magic. I do not know whether the wards will protect you now, and even still, I ask that you refrain from doing magic of any kind – accidental or intentional, with a wand or with a staff or anything else – until I can thoroughly research this."

Harry nodded. "Sure thing, Pim."

While Pim went off to investigate this hidden part of Harry's wand, Harry went off to read some of his new books. He wanted to see what he could do with this new kind of magic.

A few hours later, Harry was lying on his bed, surrounded by open books as he eagerly went from one to another, fascinated by all this knowledge and information. He knew he couldn't do anything which required the use of a wand until Pim told him that it was okay, but he wondered if he could at least try potions under Pim's supervision. He was now reading through some books which held historical facts when he felt himself getting drowsy, because it was so late. His head was drooping… but maybe he could read at least a few more pages…

Suddenly, there was a hooting sound, and Harry snapped his head up as he turned to see his new owl sitting on the perch in his window. She had returned from her hunting, and now she was holding a dead mouse in her beak, while looking at him expectantly.

"Um, hi again," Harry said. "Nice catch."

The owl hooted proudly at the compliment and flew over to her cage with her meal and began to eat.

_She probably just wanted some kind of praise,_ Harry thought to himself. _I certainly don't blame her for that._

Harry had to admit, it was a new experience to have a pet or familiar or animal companion or whatever term one wanted to use for it. He saw how Dudley treated his own pets – whenever he had any – and noticed how his cousin treated them more like his other playthings, rather than living, breathing, intelligent creatures which needed to be cared for. This was all a strange and new experience for him, and he hoped he wouldn't accidentally hurt or even kill his new owl.

_I still need to think of a name for her…_

Without even thinking about it, he picked up the last book he was looking at and began to go through it again. Maybe there was a name in here which his owl might like…

One name in particular leaped out at him for some reason: _Hedwig._ He didn't know why he liked it, but he just did.

"Hedwig," he said aloud, simply trying it out.

The owl looked up and gazed at him, as if to say, _Excuse me?_

"Oh, it's just a name I found in this book. Would you like to be called that? Hedwig?"

The owl tilted her head as she considered it, and after a moment, she hooted in affirmation.

"Very well, Hedwig it is, then," Harry said, smiling. With that, he went over and gently stroked Hedwig's feathers, and she reciprocated by gently nipping at his fingers.

"Well," Harry then yawned, "I'm tired. Going to bed… see you in the morning."

He put his books aside, and without even getting undressed, he just fell backwards into bed and was asleep within a minute.

* * *

Late that same night, Hagrid was talking with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office.

"Here's the Philosopher's Stone an' the other object as well, Headmaster," Hagrid said dutifully as he turned them over to Dumbledore.

"Why thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, beaming as he accepted them and put them away safely. "I trust everything went well?"

"Yes, Headmaster. I Apparated after I dropped Harry back off…"

"You Apparated?" Dumbledore said, focusing intently. "I thought we agreed that we wouldn't go spreading word of your ability to Apparate… we both know that technically, you're not supposed to generally use magic."

Hagrid's slip came back to haunt him for a moment as he thought about it. "Don't get me wrong, Hagrid," Dumbledore continued in a placating way, "I didn't mind pulling a few strings to help you earn an Apparition license, since we both know you didn't do those horrible things back in your third year, even though we still can't prove that just yet…"

"I understand, Headmaster, my mistake," Hagrid said.

"So… how is young Harry? Is he well?"

"Well, he certainly looks healthy enough. He was just vacationing on the island for a few days when we found him…"

Something then occurred to Dumbledore. "Hagrid," he said urgently, "was anyone else with him there?"

Hagrid stopped to think about it. "Um, now that I think about it… I didn't see anyone else."

Dumbledore felt something drop in his stomach. What could Harry Potter have been doing alone on an island all by himself?

While Hagrid was recalling his memory, going over when he found Harry in the hut on the rock out at sea, Dumbledore used very subtle Legilimency to view Hagrid's memory to view it for himself. (This was not necessarily a mental invasion of privacy; in fact Dumbledore's methods could be considered far more intrusive when he did such things with his own students to see if they were being honest or not.)

Dumbledore was truly perplexed. How could young Harry Potter possibly be getting around like this, seemingly on his own, and be unable to trace?

"Headmaster?" Hagrid spoke up.

"Thank you, Hagrid, that will be all. Again, wonderful job, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, Headmaster," Hagrid said as he exited the office.

After he left, Dumbledore was deep in thought. _Oh Harry, where have you gone?_ he thought.

To have finally found Harry Potter for the first time again in over a year, and then to have lost him again in a single day… this was just becoming too much for Dumbledore to take. He just had to find Harry and keep tabs on him, make sure he was safe…

If anything happened to Harry, Dumbledore might not be able to forgive himself.

* * *

While Harry was asleep, Pim was just beginning to get busy. For the past year or so, he had focused mainly on caring for Harry, leaving that as his top priority. But now, at this moment and as midnight neared, Pim felt that the time was right to get to work.

Summoning hundreds, if not thousands of his special small bright lights, Pim was prepared to absorb more information than ever as he ever had in a short space of time.

With a single magical command from him, the lights all flew out from the Tower of Pim and around the world.

For the next twenty-four hours, the small lights would work at night under the cover of darkness to collect information about the world and its recorded history (more specifically, he was going to collect his information exclusively from schools, universities and libraries). Pim knew that it was not always night everywhere on Earth at once, and so he made it so that the lights would only operate in parts of the world where it was still night, and as it turned into day in one part of the world, the lights would simply move on to the next part of the world where it was still night.

As the first of his lights began to collect information, Pim opened his mind to the knowledge that lay there waiting for him.

* * *

The next morning, Harry slowly woke up and reveled in how he had had some of the best sleep in a long time. He was not bothered, not even by Hagrid's revelations about his past. He was so comfortable that he didn't want to get out of bed, at least not for a while.

"Good morning, Harry," came Pim's voice.

Harry groaned and yawned. "Good morning, Pim."

"I realize you must still be tired, especially after your busy day yesterday. However, there are some things I would like to talk about, after you've gotten yourself freshened up and fed."

"Sure thing, Pim."

"Excellent. In which case, I will see you shortly."

Once Harry had bathed, dressed himself, and eaten breakfast, he went to see what Pim had to say.

"As we both now know, Harry, you have your own personal vault, which was left for you by your parents. I said from the start that I would be willing to help raise you… and that includes financially."

"I know, Pim, and I'm touched," Harry said. "However, it just doesn't seem right to me to have to fall back on you for money when I have enough myself."

If Pim was thinking anything in response to this, then he kept it to himself. However, Pim thought personally that this still had something to do with Harry's conditioning by the Dursleys into thinking that he was a burden, especially financially.

"True, I don't think either of us counted on you having enough money stashed away somewhere to support you for years to come, let alone me 'adopting' you. And before I say anything else, let me just say that I am impressed by your maturity on spending. However, if you wish, you can use your inheritance to buy what you need for school, and maybe a few personal items on the side. If you need me to contribute to something which you need, then I will happily do so."

"That sounds fair," Harry said after he contemplated that for a moment.

"Very well, then it's settled," Pim said with a smile. "I'm glad we could sort this out.

"Also, as you can imagine, I've wanted to learn more about the rest of the world ever since I came out of that long sleep for the past fifteen hundred years – and I mean both the magical and the non-magical worlds. I was hoping to update my library, and maybe even collect various plants and animals to fill up those few levels of the tower which were intended for them. I've accrued my own share of wealth for the millennia during which I was technically alive, and I imagine that some interest has been collected in the past fifteen hundred years during my 'hibernation.' I was wondering if you would like to help by accessing my wealth so you could get these things for me."

"Sure, Pim, I'd love to help."

"Excellent, in which case, we can start taking care of that in a few days."

"Also, Pim?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could possibly go back to Diagon Alley today. I just found out that my parents left me something at all – who knows what else they left me, other than money. I want to find out what I can about them."

There was momentary silence while Pim was thinking it over, and thinking that it had something to do with the last time he went out on his own, Harry quickly added, "I don't think I'm going to run into the Dursleys again, if that's what you're worried about…"

"No, it's not that," Pim said. "Although you might want to watch yourself and stay safe, as usual. If something happens, please use the Recaller and make sure no one sees you when you do it."

"Sure thing, Pim. The thing is, I also need a trunk…"

"I already have a few you can choose from, Harry. There's nothing about this trunk which might raise questions like the staff which I gave you last year… although it does have a few nice features."

"Really? Like what?"

"Why don't we take a look? Galatea?"

A few moments later, Galatea came in with an average-sized trunk. However, this thing was floating a few feet off the floor, and she was simply pushing it around, as though it were a cart on wheels. The trunk itself was made of a very dark wood, and the edges were lined with what appeared to be silver or some kind of other metal. It was simple, and yet elegant in its own right.

"I have used this trunk for many occasions before," Pim said. "It has surprisingly few enchantments on it, but it is very effective and serves its purpose wonderfully. It is resistant to most spells with the kind of destructive force which one would worry about, and it can certainly hold a lot. Additionally, you will know if someone is trying to break into it. Go on, take a look inside."

Harry opened the lid to the trunk and looked inside, and was amazed by what he saw. He saw a space inside the trunk which looked much bigger than was possible outside. After shifting his focus for a moment to compare the trunk's dimensions on the outside, as opposed to those inside, he quickly figured it out.

"Oh, I get it now," he said. "It can store much more than it appears."

"Exactly, Harry. I can also modify it so it can store more things than it does now, if it ever comes to that."

"Thanks again, Pim. Anyway, mind if I go to Diagon Alley now?"

"Not at all. Stay safe, have a little fun, and as the old saying goes… _Caveat Emptor_."

Harry smirked. _Buyer beware._

"Sure thing, Pim."

One of those small white lights materialized and transported Harry to a small back alley in Muggle London, only about a block away from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Thanks, Pim," Harry whispered out of habit, before subtly making his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

As he entered, no one really paid attention to him, but that was just fine by Harry. Over the years, he had perfected a kind of art where he could just blend in silently and go unnoticed unless he wanted to call attention to himself. At the moment, he was doing this well.

He went into the courtyard and took out his wand, remembering how Hagrid opened up the portal to Diagon Alley.

_Three up… two across… and lo and behold, Diagon Alley!_ Harry thought humorously.

Putting away his wand, Harry entered the twisting, winding street, wondering where he should go first. His initial idea was to go to the bank first so he had money for whatever he wanted to buy, but then again, he decided that it might be better to see what he wanted first, and then get the appropriate amount of money for it.

His first stop was Flourish and Blotts. There were other books which he wanted to take a look at, and he wanted to read ahead and see what there was.

Almost immediately, and without thinking about it, Harry grabbed that book by one Vindictus Viridian, and the continued, looking around for what other books he might want or need.

After _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk, there were the books for the six years beyond that, as well as another by the same author, entitled _The Standard Book of Spells (Beyond Grade 7)_. Figuring that he might as well get them now, he grabbed a copy of all seven books and put them on the side.

"An eager learner, are you?" came a voice from behind him.

Harry spun around to see one of the managers behind him.

"Well, I decided to get some books now while I needed them," Harry said by way of explanation.

"With the except of those books in the_Standard Book of Spells_ series, there's no real way to know for sure what you might or might not need at Hogwarts," the manager said, leaning casually on his knobby walking stick.

"Why, does it have anything to do with the classes?" Harry asked, politely curious.

"Well, all students from their first year start out with the same classes – History of Magic, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Potions, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Then from third year, students get to choose what you could call electives – last time I checked, they were Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies and Divination. Students take their OWL exams at the end of their fifth year, and from sixth year onward, they take the classes which they need for whatever careers they want to pursue, dropping the rest, and students have to take their NEWT exams at the end of their seventh and final year."

"Is there anything like college after Hogwarts?" Harry asked, now that it had just occurred to him.

"Not really, no," the manager responded. "People take jobs after they get out of Hogwarts – in fact, sixth and seventh years might be more like college, with how people only take courses based on what careers they want."

Harry contemplated that. It sounded like witches and wizards were able to get through their own educations faster than Muggles could.

"Actually, aside from the classes themselves, there's the fact that sometimes new editions of the same books come out every so often," the manager explained. "Trust me, it would best if you just get them before the beginning of each year like everyone else."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. After that, he went around the bookstore a little more, looking for other books which might interest him. There were a few which interested him, but figured he would rather borrow like from a library than buy and own. However, there was a book about that sport called "Quidditch" which caught his eye. Harry had never really been the athletic type, and had never been into sports all that much, but something about this drew himself to it…

Shaking his head, he remembered that he still had a lot more to do. So, he left the bookstore for the time being and looked around the rest of the alley to see what else there was.

Harry used this trip to Diagon Alley to get a better look at some things which he hadn't been able to sufficiently observe the first time around with Hagrid. There were also luggage stores, furniture stores, jewelry stores… so many awesome things which a small part of Harry wanted to buy and spend money on madly.

He was just grinning with excitement when something occurred to him.

_Wait a minute!_ he thought to himself. _How much of this stuff do I actually need?_

The truth was, practically none of it. Pim already had lots of things which these stores were selling, and it seemed like a waste to get any more of this stuff which he might not even need. One important thing which any reasonable consumer needed to do was consider how far into the future he or she would be using their purchases for.

For the next hour or so, Harry just stuck around, browsing through the stores without actually buying anything. However, as he was inside Quality Quidditch Supplies, he felt drawn to the broomsticks. For some reason, he found it amusing to see broomsticks have model numbers and series like Muggle cars and other vehicles.

After a small group of boys not much younger than himself moved out of the way, he was able to get closer to a sleek and shiny, brand-new Nimbus Two Thousand. Harry still knew practically nothing about broomsticks, but even he thought that this particular broomstick looked wonderful.

Once again, one of the managers came up from behind him, and asked him something. "So, interested in buying that broomstick?"

Harry turned around and said, "I don't know… for one thing, I don't even know how to fly on a broomstick."

The manager was a fit woman with windswept brown hair and piercing eyes, who seemed to be studying him. "Going to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Harry said nervously. "This will be my first year there."

"I can see you've also had a Muggle upbringing – don't worry, nothing to worry about. However, if you'd like, I can show you how to fly a broom."

"Really? When?"

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll be able to take you somewhere where you can learn and practice how to fly on a broomstick. I give lessons to people who want them; however, it will cost twelve Sickles."

Harry agreed to this idea, and so paid her the money, and then waited for a few minutes while she got an assistant to take over for her. Once that was all settled, she led Harry over to the fireplace.

"Let me guess," she said, "you don't know about the Floo network, right?"

"Sorry, but I've never heard about it until just now."

"Nothing to apologize for, lad. You need to learn about something for the first time sometime. Anyway, here's what you need to do… You need to take a pinch of Floo powder – that's the green stuff here – and throw it into the fireplace. Before you walk through, you need to speak clearly and say the name of the grate to the place which you want to go to."

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Travel by _fireplace_?" he asked incredulously.

She merely chuckled. "Sounds incredible, doesn't it?" As Harry was digesting all this, she said, "Here, let me demonstrate, and then you can follow me."

Striding forward, the witch shouted threw the green powder into the fire (which I turn caused the flames to rise higher and turn bright green) and then shouted "Flying practice field, Hogsmeade!" as she stepped through, and with that, she vanished.

Harry looked in amazement at the green fire now burning in the fireplace. A moment later, he came to his senses and picked up the pace.

After throwing the green powder in the fireplace and watching the fire itself turn green, he also shouted "Flying practice field, Hogsmeade!" and went through.

Harry almost felt like he was in some kind of magical whirlpool, where he was spinning very fast as he was being sucked down a giant drain. He would occasionally catch glimpses of other fires he passed and the rooms which they were connected to, but beyond that, he was just concerned mostly for his own safety.

Finally, he fell out of a grate, and he quickly scampered away from the fire as he tried to catch his breath. He was now in a small shack or cottage, with very few furnishings inside.

"Some ride, huh?" the witch said cheerfully. "Anyway, take a broom from the side and come with me."

Harry looked off to the side and saw several different broomsticks. Within seconds, he found another Nimbus Two Thousand among the other brooms there, so he took it, and then carried it with him as he followed the witch outside.

She led him outside to a field that looked to be about the size of a small football field.

"Right… let's get started, then," the witch said. Harry followed her lead as he paid attention to her instructions: "You mount your broom like this, see? Good. "Hold the handle like this – yeah, that's right – now keep this kind of posture so you won't hurt yourself. Now, we'll take off. Ready? One, two, three…"

But Harry didn't realize just how gently he may have had to lift off from the ground, because the next moment, he had gone from being on the ground to fifty feet about it within the space of five seconds. At first, for maybe a second, Harry thought he would be scared senseless…

…But then he realized how _wonderful_ it was.

The feeling of the air rushing all around him, even through his hair… this new freedom of movement which he had never thought possible before… it was simply exhilarating. For a few moments, Harry flew around, this way and that, not realizing that he was here to get flying lessons, or that the witch who brought him here was calling out his name.

"Hey, kid! KID!"

Harry swung his head around to see that the witch was now on his level, on her own broom. She looked at him as though he was something amazing.

"You mean to tell me you've _never_ flown on a broomstick before?" she asked him.

Harry, now realizing where he was and what he was doing as it all came back to him, just nodded silently.

She gave out a long whistle. "Well, I'll tell ya this, kid… it almost looks like you were born to fly."

"Well, uh… thanks," Harry said lamely.

Just then, he noticed something else. Out in the distance, he thought he saw a huge castle. "What is that?" he asked her, pointing to it.

She looked to where he was looking. "Oh, that? That's Hogwarts, kid."

"So that's where I'll be going to school," Harry said quietly, mostly to himself. "Where are we, anyway? I don't know what or where Hogsmeade is."

"Well, Hogsmeade is the town where we are now, the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain, and both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts are north of the Scottish border. Third-year students and above are allowed to visit the village on some weekends.

"Anyway," she continued, "I know you paid me twelve Sickles to teach you how to fly, which you seem to have already figured out by yourself. I really don't know if there's anything else I can show you…"

"No, it's okay," Harry reassured her. "I wasn't expecting to be good at this either. Maybe I could just fly around for a little while, and you can point things out in case I do something wrong?"

She gave a small smile and said, "Sure, I suppose I could do that. By the way, my name is Amelia Ventra." Before Harry could respond, let alone contemplate telling her who she really was, she exclaimed, "Well, go ahead, show me what you can do!"

With an eager grin on his face, Harry zoomed around on his broom, climbing and diving, banking this way or that and doing barrel rolls. It was so exciting, to be as free as a bird while he was up here.

However, soon enough, Ventra called up to him that he had been flying around for half an hour, and asked him if he wanted to take a break. It was then that Harry realized that he still had other things to do, and so he quickly descended in one last glorious dive and rejoined his instructor.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Ventra," he said gratefully. "I really enjoyed this."

"Oh, you're very welcome, my dear." _So polite, too!_ she thought to herself. If only half of the young witches and wizards came to her were this well-mannered…

"Also, I'm glad you called out to me when you did, because I just remembered a few other things I have to do," Harry added.

"Well, in that case, let me show you back to the store."

After entering the shack, they put their brooms back in their proper places, and Mrs. Ventra took out a pinch of Floo powder from a pot sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. "Quality Quidditch Supplies!" she shouted, and then walked into the green fire, vanishing.

Harry followed suit, and less than a minute later, he was back in Quality Quidditch Supplies, feeling a little dizzy from his trip.

"So," Harry asked, "just out of curiosity, how much does a Nimbus Two Thousand cost, Mrs. Ventra?"

She named the price.

"Wow, that's a lot," Harry mumbled.

"That it is, but if you ask me, it's worth every Knut," Mrs. Ventra said.

"Well, I'll see about it, but thanks again," Harry said as he began to move towards the shop's exit.

"Sure thing," she responded. However, as he moved past her, she thought she saw something on his forehead under a fringe of his hair. She had to contain a gasp as she quickly figured it out. "I'm sorry," she said casually, "but I didn't catch your name."

Harry stopped and turned around; he figured he could be honest about it and not hide who he was. "My name is Harry Potter," he said. "Thanks again for your time, Mrs. Ventra." And with that, he waved to her and left, not realizing that it would take her several minutes to snap out of her daze.

Making good use of his time, Harry walked briskly over to Gringotts. This time, when the goblin opened the pair of outer doors, Harry simply nodded this time; he didn't want to shock the poor goblin again.

Once inside, he walked over to the nearest counter with a free goblin. The goblin peered at him and said, "How may I help you?"

"I would like to talk to someone about what my parents left me. I saw my vault yesterday, and I have questions which I don't know whom I should ask them to."

"And your name is…?"

"Harry Potter," he said quietly.

The goblin's eyes widened ever so slightly, but otherwise kept his face serious. "I can have you speak to one of the managers, if you wish."

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

"In which case, follow me, Mr. Potter."

Harry followed the goblin around the counter and down a narrow hallway which might have seemed more accommodating to goblins than to humans. Portraits of past goblins lined the walls, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that their eyes were following him.

"In here," the goblin said, opening a door for him, which had a golden plaque on it, which Harry read:

**SILVERTONGUE**

**Gringotts** **Sub-Manager**

Sitting behind an impressive mahogany desk was a goblin wearing what looked like a parody of a pinstriped Muggle business suit. "Thank you," Silvertongue said to the goblin with a nod.

With a similar nod, the goblin who escorted Harry left the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Potter," Silvertongue said. Harry sat down in a comfortable wooden chair with a leather cushion.

"Now… I understand you have questions for me," the goblin sub-manager said gently. "What is it you would like to know."

"Okay, well… first of all, the vault which I got some money from yesterday, is it my own vault, or my family's vault?"

"It is the latter, Mr. Potter, your family's vault."

"Is there anything else there besides money? Like possessions of any kind?"

"There might be… excuse me a moment." Silvertongue got up and walked over to a massive file cabinet. Waving his hands and making a gesture with them, he exclaimed, "_Recupero Tabulae Familiae Potter!"_

If Harry understood his Latin correctly, then Silvertongue was trying to retrieve the records of the Potter family.

A magical file came flying out and gently landed itself in Silvertongue's outstretched hands. "Ah, let's see here," he muttered as he magically unsealed it. "They did leave some possessions, like books or furniture or clothes or jewelry, but it stipulates here that you are not allowed to retrieve these possessions until you come of age at seventeen." Looking up, the goblin said, "It's really nothing to worry about, Mr. Potter, it's perfectly safe at us."

"Oh, don't worry, I wasn't worrying," Harry responded. "Actually, if you don't mind me asking… how much money do I have in the vault?"

Rather than speak it aloud, the goblin placed it on the desk and turned it around for Harry to see. Right next to the multi-digit figure of how many Galleons, Sickles and Knuts he had, there was also a figure scribbled in to show how much he had in Pounds Sterling, just for convenience.

"That much!?" Harry exclaimed, jumping out of his seat in the process. "Oh, um, sorry," he stammered after he realized that he was making a scene.

Silvertongue merely chuckled. "Oh, that's quite alright." After giving Harry a moment to recover, Silvertongue continued, "You are the heir to one of the wealthiest families in Wizarding Britain… probably even the Wizarding World. The way I see it, you are also the heir to one of the wealthiest families which I myself and many other goblins consider to be… shall we say… _noble_."

Harry had a curious look on his face. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just about every wizarding family in Britain in the top tier of wealth had connections to You-Know-Who, and even if most of them were never punished, let alone caught in some cases, they would often steal from their victims whenever they felt like it, which is why they are so wealthy. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised that your family has never been associated in such things."

Indeed, Harry felt very relieved that he didn't have any blood money in his vault.

"However, there is even more money than what your parents stored in your vault here in Gringotts. It seems that your parents also saved some of their money in a Muggle bank. I believe it's named… Coutt's & Co.?"

Harry nearly fell out of his chair this time. "That bank?" he asked incredulously. "That's where the Queen and nobility bank!"

"So it is," Silvertongue said with a pleasant smile. "Some of our clientele also bank there whenever they feel the need to store some of their money in the Muggle world, because of the additional security which that bank has. We have something of a… shall we say… _understanding_ with the management of that bank."

Harry could only nod mutely through his shock.

"In the meantime, I would suggest that you go there as soon as possible to see what the situation is with your parents' accounts there. I imagine that quite a bit of interest has accumulated in the past ten years or so."

"Good idea," Harry croaked.

"Now, is there anything else you would like to ask me?" Silvertongue said pleasantly as he folded his hands in front of him.

Harry shook his head. "No, I think that about covers it for now," he said in more normal tones. "Thanks again for your time."

The goblin sub-manager nodded. "Very well. Have a good day, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and left.

It was late in the afternoon when Harry exited Gringotts, and so after making his way back through the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London again, he found a nice, dark (although not necessarily safe) alley and used his Recaller to transport himself back to the Tower of Pim.

Once he got back, Pim's avatar immediately greeted Harry. "I hope your shopping went well, Harry… but then again, it looks as though you didn't really buy anything at all!"

Harry merely shrugged. "I guess I really didn't need anything else. However, I did find this one thing I liked… a broomstick called the Nimbus Two Thousand. I went to get some flying instructions, and it turns out I can fly very well on my own!"

Pim noted how Harry's eyes lit up a little with that. It looked as though Harry had just gotten a new passion or hobby.

"So, why didn't you buy the broomstick?"

"I dunno… I guess I wasn't sure whether to get it or not."

"Also, how did it go with your family's finances?"

"It also turns out that my parents saved some money in a Muggle bank called Coutt's. It's a very expensive bank for the rich and nobility. It's probably closed by now, but I'd like to take a look tomorrow or something."

"That can easily be arranged. In the meantime… would you like to spend the rest of the day training?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure… why, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, aside from _magical_ training, I was wondering if you would like to be trained in how to use normal weapons."

Harry did a double take at that. "_Weapons?"_ he repeated.

"Yes, Harry, weapons. Such as swords, bows and arrows, spears…"

"Sounds a little dangerous," Harry said quietly. He really couldn't imagine himself handling weapons like that.

"More dangerous than handling, say, a staff or a wand?" Pim asked casually, just to make a point. "More dangerous than cooking fire over an open flame or using certain chemicals to maintain a household?" (Pim wasn't trying to dredge up old, bad memories of Harry's life with the Dursleys, but just to make a point.)

"My point is, Harry, that using just about anything can be dangerous, if used improperly or incorrectly. I am merely offering you the opportunity to know how to use them to defend yourself."

Harry finally smiled a little, especially after thinking about Pim's comparison of normal weapons to magical staffs or wands. "You're right, Pim, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, Harry. Now, since it is getting late, I am offering to show you some basics for close quarters combat, like with a sword."

Harry agreed, and so for an hour or so, Pim showed Harry some basics with sword fighting. Harry was holding a wooden replica of a real sword, and Pim's avatar "held" one, just for the sake of realism. This was the first of many lessons they would have together, and in this first lesson alone, Harry truly understood that sword fighting was definitely _not_ about just swinging the sword around and moving around a lot. Pim showed his ward how to do basic things like dodge and block before moving on to more advanced stuff.

Feeling a little worn out after their initial fighting session, Harry took a bath and then went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was just finishing up breakfast when Pim approached him.

"Before you go to this other bank where the rest of your parents' money is, I need to let you know about something.

"Through my magic, I have determined that there are devices in existence which, when used, can tell whoever uses them a person's location. When you are here in my tower, you are protected from such observational powers. However, once you are out from under my protection, you can and will be detected by such.

Harry's eyes widened a little as he thought about it. "But yesterday… you mean anyone could have found me that way?"

Pim nodded. "Indeed. I just didn't know it or realize it yesterday. However, now that I do, I have done something about it."

Pim summoned a small, thin bracelet. It floated in front of Harry, slowly rotating and gyrating. It appeared to be made out of crystal, possibly quartz. A small band of gold circled a small part of it, and embedded in it as a tiny diamond, no bigger than a grain of sand.

"This bracelet will disguise and mask your magical presence," Pim explained. "However, it will not inhibit your magic, and you will still be able to use your wand normally. As long as you are my ward and it is my job to protect you, we should make sure that you use this when it is imperative that you need to avoid being found or otherwise detected."

"Of course, Pim, thanks," Harry said as he took the bracelet and tried it on.

"If the magic which powers the bracelet should somehow fail, or you have been found out when you shouldn't be, the bracelet will give off a faint vibration and the diamond will glow red in order to let you know."

"Got it, thanks. Anyway, I'll be ready to go in a few minutes…"

Once Harry was ready to go, Pim magically teleported him to a discrete alley not far from the Muggle bank itself, and let Harry take care of things from there.

Meanwhile, while Harry was away, Pim went to check up on his wealth…

While Pim may have purposely remained obscure to just any other person during the thousands of years of his long life, he was by no means poor. He had been paid by clients from one end of the social ladder to the other for all kinds of various jobs, from warding off monsters to teaching young students. But he also sometimes joined in battle, fighting for a side whose cause and goals he also believed in, and so sometimes he was paid that way. He would also occasionally loot from battles, if only to make sure that the loot didn't fall into the hands of someone else who would have used it for evil or less-than-noble purposes.

Pim had lived on an absolutely minimalist lifestyle, stashing and hoarding away whatever he could of his earnings. So, when he moved to Britain to set up a new home there, he also spent that time between setting up his new home and moving his wealth to a nearby and equally secure location.

Pim had also hallowed out of the mountains whose slopes were right next to the Tower of Pim. He had purposely put wards on it and all around it so that if anyone were to try excavating there or anything, they would either miss it or suddenly feel compelled to stop what they were doing and go do something else instead. If only they knew what was _really_ stored away in there…

About a hundred or so big chests of ancient coins from all over the known world. Bars of gold, silver, and other valuable metals. Plates, bowls, cups and chalices made with such valuable metals. Gems and jewels which were every color of the rainbow, and then some. Full sets of armor and weapons of all kind. Extra copies of books and scrools which Pim already had in his own library. Statues, busts, paintings, murals, engravings and other images of famous people. Perfumes which were magically preserved to be fresh after all these years.

It was enough to make even King Midas himself fall over in shock and awe.

Pim sent Galatea from the tower to the enormous vault in the mountain. Several minutes later, she came back with an enormous trunk filled to the brim with valuable coins from various ancient civilzations.

After all, if he was going to buy things from Diagon Alley, he would need the appropriate kind of money.

About an hour or so later, Harry had returned with information about his parents' accounts in that bank. It turned out that they had also invested small sums of money in various things, and now, more than a decade later, Harry was examining the results. Some stocks had remained pretty much the same for all the time that had passed, a few didn't do so well (one of them wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on), but quite a few of them had shot up. Add that to the total amount which his parents had deposited, plus the interest from being held in the bank all these years, and Harry was looking at a considerable six-digit figure.

Once Harry had put these documents away and met with Pim again, his magical mentor explained to Harry what he had in mind.

"I would like to purchase a copy of whatever books they supply at that bookstore Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, and after that, I would like to purchase a sufficient amount of whatever supplies they have at the Apothecary. It would also help to get a few new cauldrons, as well as some fresh writing supplies. Also, now that I think about it, maybe I should buy some owls, since obviously, I can't keep using those Luclars."

Harry nodded but then did a double take. "Luclars?" he repeated.

"Oh, it's the name I came up with for those small bright lights."

"Heh, cute," Harry commented. "So, how should I do it?"

"Well, it might help first to have some owls to deliver the items. If I'm going to have owls come or go from here, I may as well purchase them and make sure that they can keep our secrets. After that, we'll get what we need. But first, go to Gringotts and have the entire amount of money in this trunk converted into their currency."

"But how will I know exactly what to buy?" Harry asked Pim. "And besides, what if the goblins there ask me where I got all this old money?"

"As for the money, just tell them that your guardian has all these old coins and wants them converted," Pim said calmly. "It's the truth, anyway. Also, with your permission, I can place a spell on you so I can see whatever you see, hear whatever you hear, and so on. I ask for your permission, because this spell can be considered very invasive."

Harry didn't need long to think about it. "Of course you can place this spell on me, Pim."

Pim nodded. "Very well." Suddenly, there was a bright light which made Harry's body tingle all over, and then it faded after a few moments. "It is done."

"Thanks."

"One other thing: We will need to disguise you. One moment, please…"

Harry thought he felt _something_ on his face, and after looking into a nearby mirror, he could see exactly what it was: Pim changed Harry's appearance. He now had light brown hair (neatly-combed instead of sticking up uncontrollably), hazel eyes, and a more rounded face.

"Interesting," Harry commented, and then noticed how his own voice was changed as well.

"It is only temporary, of course," Pim added. "Do you have your wand and your bracelet?"

"Yes, I have them."

"Good. I am transporting you now…"

One of the Luclars made contact with Harry, and barely a second later, he found himself in the same alley near the Leaky Cauldron. This time, however, the chest full of ancient coins was next to him on a wheeled carrier.

Trying to look discrete but not as though he was hiding something, Harry took the chest and wheeled it along with him to the Leaky Cauldron. Once again, Harry made his way through the building, into the back courtyard, through the portal in the brick wall and into Diagon Alley.

He went straight to Gringotts, and took it to the nearest counter with a free goblin behind it.

"How may I help you, young sir?" the goblin said in business style.

"I have a lot of old money which I would like to be traded into Galleons and such," Harry said calmly.

"Yes, we do have moneychangers here. I am sure that it will be no problem. May I see the money inside, sir?"

Harry calmly opened the chest, and the goblin's eyes bulged.

"When you said 'old money,' I had no idea you meant money from ancient civilizations," the goblin confided quietly so no one else could hear either of them.

Harry looked into the chest for the first time, and even he was amazed by what he saw inside. There were coins of all kinds in all sizes, ranging from Greek drachmas to Roman sesterces.

"I can have someone lead you into another room where you can properly sort out all this money and convert it into Galleons and such," the goblin offered.

Harry agreed, and so a few minutes later, he and another goblin were in a back room, sorting out all the ancient money and converting them to wizarding currency. Several minutes later, the ancient coins in the trunk were now replaced with shiny new Galleons, Sickles and Knuts.

After thanking the goblins, Harry walked out with the chest and suddenly heard a voice.

"_Harry, this is Pim,"_ the voice said. "_Don't look around, don't look crazy. Just listen to what I say, and I'll help you buy what I'm looking to buy. Nod once if you understand."_

Harry nodded once. "_Good. Now, first stop… Eeylops' Owl Emporium."_

Listening to Pim, Harry chose two owls of each kind of breed, and a male and female in each, all of them relatively young. So, with a pair of tawny, screech, barn, brown and snowy owls each, making for a total of ten owls in all, Harry paid for them, plus some Owl Treats.

"_Now touch each of them, gently,"_ Pim said. "_Through you, I will tell them about the tower and how it is hidden."_

Harry did as he was told, and after he was done, all ten owls new about the Tower of Pim, and were committed to keeping the secrets of their new master.

"However, we still need to buy some things," Harry told the owls. "And I might need you to deliver them."

Hooting in understanding, the owls made themselves scarce by flying to the tops of other buildings as they waited for him.

"_First stop is Quality Quidditch Supplies,"_ Pim told Harry. "_I would like to purchase one of those Nimbus Two Thousands."_

Harry wondered why Pim would want the broomstick, but didn't ask. So, he went to the store and used some of his money to pay for the Nimbus Two Thousand on the spot.

"_I don't want anything to happen to this, so just discretely move into one of the back alleys behind the store and wait for one of my Luclars to transport it back to the tower."_

Harry did as he was told, after that was done, Harry continued on his way. The next stop was the Apothecary, where Pim told Harry how much or how many he should get of what. The person behind the counter looked rather surprised at how this young boy knew to get all these different things, but as long as he paid, the employee had no problem with it. All ten owls were required to work together to carry the potions supplies and equipment back to the Tower of Pim, even after the loads were magically lightened as much as possible.

From there, Harry went to Flourish and Blotts, where he asked how much it would cost to get one copy of each book currently on the shelves. The clerk behind the cashier looked at him suspiciously, but once Harry politely made it clear that he wasn't joking, and he had the money to cover it, the clerk wasted no time in adding it all up.

As it turned out, Harry had just enough left to cover it. Because of all the secrecy, he had to ask if he could have his owls come back and pick up the books purchased at regular intervals, which the store manager agreed to. So, as a result, Pim would be getting his new books over the next week or so.

After all that shopping, Harry was surprised that there was money left at all. Fine, so one Galleon, a few Sickles and some Knuts wasn't much…

"_Keep the change, Harry,"_ Pim told him. "_Consider it a handler's fee."_

Harry shrugged and pocketed it.

"_Well, that's that, so please, come on home."_

After Harry returned, Pim undid the spell and Harry's magical disguise. Harry looked at the ten new owls, some of whom were catching up with Hedwig after Harry bought her from Eeylops' Owl Emporium.

"Ah, Harry, you're just in time!" Pim said cheerfully. "Meet the new owls! That's Mr. and Mrs. Tawny, that's Mr. and Mrs. Screech, that's Mr. and Mrs. Barn, that's Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and that's Mr. and Mrs. Snowy!"

Harry smirked and shook his head. Pim really did have a somewhat unusual sense of humor at times.

"Also, thank you for getting that Nimbus Two Thousand, Harry," Pim added as the broomstick floated into view. "Here, Happy Birthday."

Harry gaped for a moment before smiling. "Ah, thanks, Pim. Very clever, too."

"Unless you have something else you would rather do, I can teach you some basic archery lessons," Pim offered.

Archery… that sounded like fun too Harry. Okay, so it was originally developed to hunt animals and even kill other people, but Harry also remembered things like Robin Hood and the stories about him, and so he gladly accepted Pim's offer.

For the rest of the day, Harry practiced outside the tower with various targets, a bow and a quiver of arrows. He had to be careful, because there arrows were not the ones with the relatively blunt tips which Muggles used to practice archery with, but with actual, sharp arrowheads. But with Pim's instruction, Harry learned and knew how to safely handle them.

The sun was nearly done setting by the time Harry realized how late it was getting. After finishing his current supply of arrows, he cleaned up after himself and went inside to get some sleep.

* * *

The next day, Pim approached Harry after breakfast about a different matter.

"I was thinking, Harry… you may want to create an alias for yourself, just in case. Now that I know about your past, and especially about this Voldemort, I think it is even more imperative that you have at least one false identity under which you can move about, just in case."

Harry nodded. "Alright, I can do that now."

"That's fine. However, let me impart on you a word of wisdom about this kind of matter: Never get too attached to one particular name, especially if you like it. This kind of name is supposed to be just as able to drop as it is used. It's not a penname for an author to writer under."

Harry understood, and so he spent the better part of an hour in his room, thinking of what would sound nice. He also made a face as he realized that he already had one: The Boy Who Lived. But then another idea came to him: Why not do something based on that.

He tried out the phrase "boy who lived" in the few other languages he knew, wondering if he could make up anything based on those. For some reason, he was stuck on the Latin way of saying it, something about it drawing him to it. "_Puer qui vixit,"_ he muttered, testing it out. "_Puer qui vixit… pwer kwee wix-it…"_

Within moments, he had a name he thought he liked.

"I got it," he said out loud.

"You do?" Pim's avatar said as it materialized near him.

"Oh, hi Pim," Harry said, not expecting him. "Anyway, yeah, I think I got a name: Peter Quincy Wickett."

Pim thought about it, and thinking that it was just as good as any other fake name, he agreed on it.

"Good. In which case, we'll just save that name for later until we might actually need it. Now that that's been taken care of, I was wondering if you would like to learn some magic which I think you might like."

Harry accepted Pim's offer, of course. So, with Pim's help, Harry learned some new spells.

The first of them was the Sight of Janus spell. Janus was a two-faced Roman god who could see both ways, past and future (and after whom the month of January was named). However, this spell had nothing to do with time, but instead allowed a person to see behind himself just as well as anything in front of him.

Once Harry understood it well enough, he cast the spell: "_Janivisus!"_ With that, Harry was suddenly seeing two images at once: What was right in front of him, as usual, and what was behind him. It took a few moments for his mind and his brain to adjust to seeing two separate images at once, and the spell wore off after a minute or so anyway, but as Pim reassured him, Harry should be able to master it and hold it for longer in the future, with more practice.

The next spell was the Stone Shell spell. This would encase the caster in a layer of stone, and protect the caster from various forms of magical and physical damage (the strength and resistance of the stone itself would depend on the power of the spell). However, the caster would remain immobile until he took it off of himself.

So, Harry tried it out: "_Conchasaxa!"_ The next thing Harry knew, he was immobile and could not move an inch unless he mentally willed the stone layer to go away; however, he could see _through_ the stone itself as though it was nothing, and he found it kind of funny how Pim even through furniture at Harry, which broke into splinters as it made contact with his protective stony form. A few minor offensive spells did a little damage, but hardly enough to crack the stone layer more than a little. Finally, Harry willed the spell to be undone, and after that, Harry was ready to learn the next spell.

Pim taught Harry an Instant Blade spell, which he didn't advise his young protégé to use as a weapon, but more as a tool. "_Laminapraesens!"_ he shouted, and a blade grew from the tip of his wand, with the wand itself serving as the handle. Practicing with it, he sliced through paper and plants with it. This would be a very useful survival tool.

After that, Harry learned other spells, like the Ramming Hex. "_Arieto!"_ he shouted at a big log of wood propped upright, and it went flying backwards as though it had been hit by a car.

There was also even something fun called the Net Hex. Just a simple spell with a simple incantation of "_Rete!"_ (pronounced "Reh-teh"), a net went flying from the end of Harry's wand and flew across the room. It probably would have been big enough to bundle up an owl, maybe something a little bigger than that.

Another interesting spell was the Hellhound Curse, which would summon a hound made out fire, designed to go after opponents. This was more advanced, but after being reassured that it would cause him no kind of strain, injury, or damage whatsoever, Harry decided to try it. "_Ignicatulus!"_ he shouted, and what looked like a fiery puppy sprang from his wand and ran around, barking and yapping its head off shortly before disappearing.

And to think… this could still be considered only the beginning of Harry's magical tutelage under Pim.

* * *

It was only a month, that August… but for both Harry and Pim, it was not only a testament to how much people could get done in seemingly short amounts of time, but also how much the two enjoyed being together, as mentor and protégé.

After taking another chest full of ancient money, but converting this one to British Pounds Sterling, Pim brought himself some Muggle devices, such as a television set, a radio and even a modest stereo. Apparently, magic had some kind of adverse effect on electricity and circuitry, but Pim was able to find a way around that, although Harry didn't quite understand how. Pim had also begun making a small collection of movies on VHS tapes and music on tape cassettes and compact discs. Whenever Harry wasn't learning or practicing magic, they would sometimes watch or listen to things together. They were also thinking of getting and sharing a computer, which sounded useful and helpful.

With some help from Pim, Harry would learn at least the Hogwarts course material for the first month or so by summer's end. He figured that having a small head-start on the course material wouldn't hurt. Thanks to his fast learning abilities, Pim was able to tell for himself if Harry was casting the spells and brewing the potions correctly and properly.

Harry was also very grateful to Pim for getting him that Nimbus Two Thousand, which Pim insisted that Harry enjoy. Within the safety of the tower's dome, Harry would fly around, trying this trick or that one. Maybe after Pim figured something out, Harry could fly all over Snowdonia National Park without getting noticed.

Magic aside, Harry was also progressing in learning some things such as sword-fighting and archery. Pim would often mock-fight with Harry to train with him personally, and as Harry got a little better at archery, Pim even set up some flying targets for him to try and hit (and just to be safe, they made sure that none of the owls were out and about during that).

Harry was also sure to get some exercise. Whether it was going for small runs through the park yet not far from the tower itself, or just frolicking about and having fun in the glorious summer whether, he made sure to get out more often. He had spent far too much time cooped up in this place or that one, and without the Dursleys constantly on the lookout to prevent him from doing anything fun or wholesome, he could now really enjoy himself. He certainly wasn't going to get out of shape, just because he now had lots of food and different kinds of leisure which weren't available to him before Pim took him in.

Harry also made sure he properly cared for Hedwig without actually spoiling her. He groomed her and cleaned her cage on a regular basis, and fed her the occasional Owl Treat when she didn't want to go out hunting for a meal. Harry had also apologized, more than once, for not having any letters for her to deliver, because he simply didn't have anyone to send letters to, or at least for now, but fortunately, Hedwig seemed to understand. Also, out of one particular moment of boredom, Harry got the idea to play "Frisbee" with Hedwig, where he would toss into the air a small disc of appropriate size, and she would catch it, either with her beak or with her talons. Both boy and owl enjoyed this game very much.

For Harry, it still all seemed to strange… not so much that magic existed, and that he could do magic, but he could actually be happy with a parental-figure which loved him and would do just about anything for him. Some last vestiges of Harry's life with the Dursleys remained, but he felt that he was able to successfully shove those awful memories away into the farthest recesses of his mind.

* * *

Soon enough, it was the last week of August, and Harry was just cleaning up after his own breakfast when it happened.

First the lights began to flicker, and then the tower itself began to rumble, and then shake. But worst of all was the high, screechy sound, which was so bad that Harry clamped his hands over his ears to try and block it as much as he possibly could.

What seemed like more than an hour later (when it was really just a few minutes), the sound finally stopped, but there was still some ringing in Harry's ears.

Dashing up to his room, he could see that Hedwig was also looking frazzled, and her feathers were even standing on end because of that experience. The other owls didn't seem to feel so well, either.

Galatea came rushing into the room to see if Harry was alright, and after he reassured her that he was, Pim's avatar appeared before them, looking worried.

"I think we have a problem," he said, stating the obvious.

Barely an hour later, Pim figured out what the problem was.

"It's my magic," he explained to everyone present. "Somehow, I don't think the tower was designed to handle this much magic. First this tower was put into a form of 'hibernation' for nearly fifteen hundred years, and now we've just been using the magic freely for the past year or so. I think that the magic is getting unstable or something. In other words, we have to drastically cut back on all this magic which we're using."

Pim turned to look at Harry specifically. "I think we have enough to last for another week or so, and after you leave to go to Hogwarts, I'll be able to use just enough to maintain the tower until things work out. I'll still be able to do things like write to you for the sake of appearances, but you might not be able to fall back on me or things such as my Luclars if something happens to you."

Harry nodded. "I understand, Pim."

"We may also have to consider having a sort of 'back-up location,' just in case you need somewhere to flee to, for whatever reason."

Both of them thought about that for a moment, but then Harry remembered something.

"Pim… about that hut on the rock which you had me wait at for a day… how about there?" Harry asked him.

"Actually, that place wasn't abandoned, but the old man who owns it was away for those few days, which made it ideal," Pim admitted. "But you know what, I don't think he likes it there very much. What do you say we buy the hut from him?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I really don't know anywhere else which would make a good hiding place, so I guess it works."

"Good. In which case, let us make an offer to him."

So an hour later, the old man was sitting on the edge of this miserable little rock far out at sea, wishing he could get out of this place, when he noticed something.

On the horizon, a small boat appeared, and it was getting closer. As it came ashore, he could see that its only passenger was a boy who couldn't have been any older than eleven years old. Next to him was a brief case.

"What do you want?" the old man said in what could have been considered a condescending tone as the boy stepped out of the boat, carrying the briefcase in his arms.

"I'd like to buy your hut, sir," the boy said politely with a smile.

The old man laughed. "Listen to me, boy, no one, and I repeat, _no one_ wants this hut on this rock. They say it costs too much, and you know something… they're right! This hut is basically a white elephant – you know what a white elephant is, boy?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know what a white elephant is," Harry said cheerfully. "It's something which is really expensive, serves little or no actual purpose, but you can't get rid of."

The old man blinked. "Yes, well… anyway, why would you want it?"

"Because I just do," Harry said simply.

"Please, if this is a joke, then just leave," the old man scowled as he began to turn around to walk back inside his hut.

"Oh, I can assure you," Harry said as he fumbled with the briefcase, "this is quite real." And with that, he opened the briefcase to reveal many crisp, bound bank notes neatly stored inside.

The old man's eyes looked like they were ready to fall out of their sockets, and for a second, Harry was afraid that he had given him a heart attack. But the next moment, the old man was smiling brightly and looking like he was about to dance. "Oh my… that's at least twice the value of his place? Maybe even three times as much! Or four times as much? Maybe even five times as much?"

After both of them counted it together, they saw that it was double the value of the hut itself, and then some. So, within hours, everything was arranged and settled on. Both of them pleased with themselves, Harry handed the old man the briefcase full of money, and the old man gave Harry the key, deed, and various other necessities.

"Well, thanks again for helping me get away from this place," the old man said as he piled the briefcase of money in his own boat, next to his suitcase of clothes and trunk of various other knickknacks. He was now wearing a bright, colorful Hawaiian-style T-shirt with flowers, khaki shorts, and sandals. As he took out his sunglasses, he asked, "By the way, I never really understood where the expression 'white elephant' came from."

"From what I can recall, it comes from Thailand," Harry explained. "If the Thai king wanted to ruin someone, he'd give them a white elephant as a gift. It would serve practically no useful purpose, would cost a lot to take care of, and couldn't be gotten rid of, since it was a gift from the king."

"Ah," the old man said in understanding. "I see now."

Putting on his sunglasses now, the old man said, "Well, I really appreciate it, so thanks again. You can call me Ulysses, by the way."

"Harry. Farewell, Ulysses, and _bon voyage_."

Ulysses grinned. "You got that right. See ya around, kid." Starting up his own boat, Ulysses declared, "Good-bye, hut on the rock! Caribbean, here I come!"

As the old man drove his boat out of sight, Harry smiled and went inside. "Okay, Pim," he said, "I'm ready."

All kinds of painting, redecorating and cleaning supplies appeared around him, and with that, Harry started his work. It would take him an entire week, including breaks and other tasks he needed to do, such as getting ready to go to Hogwarts on the first of September, but in the end, Harry would be pleased with the results as he transformed the old hut into something which looked almost brand-new (with a little help from magic, of course).

After Harry was done with the hut, he went back to the Tower of Pim and was approached by Pim.

"I must say, Harry, you did an excellent job," Pim said with a smile, "but there is another concern now.

"Obviously, we must keep the hut on the rock secret as well. Even as we speak, I am magically putting wards on it to disguise it the same way that this tower is disguised. The wards being placed on the new hideaway are temporary, but they should last for at least a year, maybe more. So, after taking your original Recaller and your magic-disguising bracelet, I came up with this."

A new bracelet appeared, and while it looked almost identical to the magic-disguising bracelet, Harry could see something new about this one. There was a small row of gemstones embedded in it.

"The diamond, as with the original design, is an indicator as to how well the bracelet is working," Pim explained. "However, with the emerald and the sapphire… pressing the emerald will return you here, to the Tower of Pim, in Snowdonia. The sapphire will send you to the hut on the rock, out at sea (which we really ought to think of a name for, by the way). You may try it now, but please, do not go crazy with it."

"You know I won't, Pim," Harry said with an innocent smile.

Pressing the sapphire, he found himself in the middle of the hut. Pressing the emerald, he found himself in the middle of the ground level in the tower.

"It works," he announced. "Thanks, Pim."

"There is also more," Pim added. "I also put a couple of features on it. All you have to do is think it, and the bracelet will stay on your wrist and not come off. Additionally, and as a safeguard of sorts, it will become invisible to everyone else except for you for as long as it is on your wrist – after all, we cannot have anyone else know about it."

"Got it," Harry said, confirming that he understood. "However… what about this magic problem which you're having at the moment?"

"Well, I think weekend visits might be out of the question, at least for the time being. Maybe if I get it working right, we can spend the winter holidays together here. So, if it's an emergency, then you can use it to come back without there being any kind of problems."

Harry understood completely, and once they got that all sorted out, Harry went about seeing what else he could do.

* * *

It was getting late on the last day of August, and the following day, on the first of September, hundreds of students would either be returning to Hogwarts or going there for the first time. However, for Dumbledore, he wasn't sure if he could contain his excitement – or his apprehension.

For the past month, he had been trying to find Harry once again, out of concern for the boy's own safety, and in an effort to not repeat his mistake of not keeping a closer eye on him as was the case with the Dursleys. And so far, there had been no luck whatsoever.

_Please let me be sure that Harry is safe and well,_ he silently thought to whoever might have heard him. _That is all I ask. To know that he is safe and well._

Harry would be coming to Hogwarts the next day… but somehow, even that didn't seem to be soon enough.

As Dumbledore was looking for some paperwork to go over before the school term started, just to try and take his mind off of things, he thought he heard something coming from the lake.

Looking up, he listened carefully, and indeed, he could hear a soft yet strong, ululating melody coming from the lake.

Getting up, Dumbledore moved around and walked towards the window, and he saw the chieftainess of the merfolk floating up to his waist at the water's surface and surrounded by her own personal guard, calling out to him.

Acknowledging this call, Dumbledore hurried out of his office and down towards the lake. Once he got there, the merfolk Chieftainess Murcus stopped her song and looked at him directly before speaking.

"_We have a visitor for you, Headmaster,"_ she said, speaking in Mermish. "_He claims that you have something of his."_

Dumbledore looked puzzled. "_Surely he is not claiming that I stole anything?"_

"_No, nothing like that,"_ she reassured him. "_Rather, he speaks about something which he tried to protect which somehow wound up in your possession."_

"_Then I will speak to him,"_ Dumbledore said.

With that, the chieftainess made a splashing motion with her tail fins as a gesture, letting her know that the visitor could come forward.

A new form appeared on the water's surface and swam to them. It looked like a very big, man-sized fish, and after stopping near them, the fish paused for a moment… and then began to change. Its tail split into two, with its fins becoming webbed feet, its fins on either side extended and became arms with five-fingered hands, and its head reshaped itself to become a human head, or at least a vaguely-shaped human head with some fish-like features to it.

After this newcomer gave a courteous yet polite nod to the chieftainess, she nodded back and left with her personal guard, leaving the Fish-Man alone with Dumbledore.

The Fish-Man looked at him for a moment before kneeling down in the sand and drawing out some form of writing in the sand itself.

If Dumbledore recalled his Ancient Runes studies from literally ages ago, then he could see that the Fish-Man was asking him, through the writing, if he had the object which was sent away.

Kneeling down to touch the sand, Dumbledore wrote an answer, affirming that he did indeed have it.

Erasing his own initial question, the Fish-Man now wrote something to the effect of, "_You know what, this is getting ridiculous, I can speak the same language as the others in this lake."_

Oh, so he was talking about Mermish.

"_Greetings,"_ Dumbledore said to him in Mermish. "_My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of this school."_

"_Yes, I know,"_ the Fish-Man said, in an accent unlike anything which Dumbledore had heard before. "_We need to discuss the safety of the object which is currently in your possession."_

"_I can assure you that it will be protected,"_ Dumbledore said with complete honesty.

"_I do not doubt your claims, nor do I doubt the security of your school,"_ the Fish-Man said calmly. "_It is simply a matter of who I entrusted it to. I purposely put a spell on it so that it would fall in the hands of the nearest available people who could be trusted, especially since they knew what it was."_

"_If you are referring to the married couple which found them, then yes, I know who they are,"_ Dumbledore said just as calmly. "_They wanted me to keep it safe here."_

"_With all due respect, Headmaster, it is the principle of the matter,"_ the Fish-Man countered. "_Do you not know what that object is? It is the –"_

"_Yes, I know full well what it is,"_ Dumbledore interjected calmly. "_If I understand correctly, is it a matter of exactly who is guarding it? Because in which case, I can have them here so we can all discuss this together."_

The Fish-Man considered it for a moment or so, and then relented. "_Very well,"_ he said, "_but I would like to meet those people who found it, and confer with them, and with you present. Tomorrow, at midday."_

Dumbledore nodded. "_Agreed."_

"_Farewell,"_ the Fish-Man said by way of leaving.

Dumbledore stood there for a moment, considering this being's words. He would show that he could be trusted.

On the way back up to the castle, he realized that he hadn't even caught the Fish-Man's name!

* * *

After finishing the job with the hut, Harry had two days left of his summer vacation before going to Hogwarts. He enjoyed them by going over everything he would need one last time, getting in some last rounds sword practice, archery, and getting in some time flying on his broomstick. For his last evening at the Tower of Pim, Harry was treated to a sumptuous feast as a send-off.

After the evening meal, Harry was just going over his things one last time, making sure he had everything, when Pim approached him.

"Harry," he said, "I've never been a true parent myself because I've never had any true children of my own, but as a teacher, tutor, mentor, instructor and adviser, I have done my best with countless children under my care. One thing which I have learned to do time and time again was to allow my students to go out and do things on their own without me, after I taught them everything which they needed to know up to that point. Still, it never has been entirely easy for me to just see them go, even if they do return, as I occasionally worry that something might happen to them.

"In the past year or so during which you have been living here, you have shown that you can handle yourself on your own. I have faith in you that you can handle yourself well at this school without anything going wrong. And, of course, I wish you the best of luck."

Harry was truly touched by Pim's gentle and well-chosen words.

"Thanks, Pim," he said, with a reassured smile.

Pim nodded. "Good night, Harry." And with that, his avatar vanished.

As Harry changed into his nightclothes and climbed into bed, he thought about Pim's words. He didn't know, but he somehow got the impression that there was more to what Pim was trying to say than what he had actually said.

After he shrugged to himself, Harry put the lights out and lay in bed, staring at the night sky until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

A/N:I think after the last chapter, it was nice to have a more original chapter again.

**Regarding the chapter title… pretty self-explanatory.**

Regarding the trunk and the shopping spree, or lack thereof… yeah, I know, it's kind of a break from all the different fics with amazing magical trunks and really big shopping sprees. It's more like an "anti-shopping spree" of sorts. Oh well. Maybe Harry will go on a shopping spree sometime in the future…

As you can also see, I'm bringing in things now such as Floo powder, rather than waiting for later to do it.

As for Amelia Ventra's name… her first name is a sort of nod to the famous aviatrix Amelia Earhart (hey, it seemed appropriate somehow), while her last name comes from the Latin word _ventus_ ("wind").

"Luclar" I got from the Latin words _lux_ ("light") and _clarus_ ("bright").

I purposely skipped over the part with that bank Coutt's and Co., because I've never been there before, I have no idea what it's like, and I have no idea how they do things.

I know you've all been looking forward to seeing Pim train Harry, and I hope that this first chapter with training in it is satisfactory. I have to make this stuff up as I go along, and I just hope it won't be cheesy or stupid or something. You may also notice how while it says that Pim taught Harry several different spells, I'm only showing a few. The truth is, I can't think of all that many right now, and it's just as well, because I want to save some ideas for later as well. And as for the spells themselves, I'm making up the incantations as JKR herself would do, by merging Latin words together in a way which would otherwise be considered grammatically incorrect (but hey, who cares about that?). Also, I'm sorry that just about every spell has been in Latin so far, but I know only various Greek words, I don't know any ancient Egyptian, and it's been years since I took any Hebrew. If anyone knows Greek or ancient Egyptian, please don't hesitate to offer your help.

A note on the pronunciation: Classical Latin is pronounced slightly differently than ecclesiastical Latin, and the ancient Romans pronounced their consonant V's as W's, believe it or not. For example, "Venus" would have been pronounced "Wey-noos," "Vesuvius" would have been pronounced "Weh-soo-wee-oos," and so on. So, that's why Harry's alias is Peter Quincy _Wickett_ and not Peter Quincy _Vickett_. (Oh, and by the way… originally, I was going to make it "Piers" instead of "Peter," but I changed my mind at the last moment.)

Regarding the thing with the Tower of Pim having power problems… I realize how bad it might be for Pim and his magic to be at Harry's disposal every conceivable moment, so I had to put some sort of obstacle in the way.

The part with the old man being skeptical about anyone wanting to buy his home, and then gladly selling it after seeing the gold offered… that was inspired by the scene where the old man does that in the movie version of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ from 2002. (Okay, so it wasn't all that accurate to the book itself, but I still liked this particular version of it.) As for the old man who owned the hut on the rock, I named him "Ulysses" (the Roman name for Odysseus from Greek mythology) because it just seemed fitting somehow.

Harry's explanation about white elephants is a recounting of how one of my professors explained it to me.

Regarding the return of the Fish-Man… I was originally going to bring him in a lot later than this. Lucky you guys. _(GRIN)_

_Please don't forget to review!_

–_**Quillian**_  
**(First posted: July 2, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)


	9. WELCOME TO HOGWARTS

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** Some dialogue is taken verbatim from the book, ranging from the encounter with the Weasleys at King's Cross and the Welcome Feast.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Well, Harry finally gets Sorted in this chapter, but I just know that not everyone's going to be happy with the result. Oh well, you can't please everyone. My reasoning will be explained later on. I only ask for one thing: PLEASE don't lash out at me over it just because you aren't happy with it.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Eight, "The Potions Master."**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT  
WELCOME TO HOGWARTS**

Harry woke up on the first morning of September, feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

After getting out of bed, he made sure one last time that he had everything and was forgetting nothing. After shutting his trunk, he looked around for Hedwig, and as if on cue, she came soaring in.

"Good morning, girl," he greeted her, stroking her feathers. "Are you ready to go?"

Hedwig hooted affirmatively, nipped his fingers affectionately and settled into her cage, ready for a long journey.

Just as Harry was finished with making sure he had everything, Pim's avatar appeared.

"Well, Harry, it is nice to see that you are so eager to go to this school, but you are forgetting something," he coyly reminded his ward.

Harry instinctively looked around for whatever it was which he might have been forgetting, but after being unable to think of anything else, he turned back to Pim and asked, "What is it?"

"Breakfast!"

Harry could have smacked himself on the forehead at that moment. "Heh, right, thanks."

So, after having a small yet filling breakfast (an omelet with fried tomatoes and toast, plus a glass of milk), as well as putting his lunch away in his trunk for the ride on the train, Harry bade farewell to Pim, Galatea, and all the owls. Harry took his trunk, as well as Hedwig in her cage, and prepared to go.

"One last thing before I send you off to catch your train, Harry," Pim said. "Don't worry about me. It's not like I'm dying or anything like that. At the moment, I just need to try and figure out how to conserve my magic. I promise you, Harry, that I will be fine. I have done a good job protecting you far… and I am not about to give up now."

Just hearing those words made Harry feel Pim's resolve and determination. "I believe you, Pim. And good luck with it."

"Why, thank you, Harry. And good luck with your own quest."

"Thanks, Pim. Good-bye!"

And with help from a Luclar, Harry was gone from the Tower of Pim, in the first step of his journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

So, after being transported by one of the Luclars from the Tower of Pim to a deserted alley in London, Harry went a few blocks to King's Cross Station with his trunk and pet owl in tow. He garnered a few odd looks because of Hedwig (who just serenely gazed back at whoever looked at her), but otherwise, he just shrugged it off.

Finally, he got up to where Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters should logically have been, somewhere between platforms nine and ten.

_Why make it Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters?_ Harry idly wondered to himself. _Why not Platform Nine-and-a-Half or something? Because it's closer to Platform Ten than to Platform Nine?_

It was already several minutes before eleven o'clock, Harry was starting to get a little worried, and even a little desperate. _I'm starting to think I really should have asked Hagrid about that…_

He just kept looking around for even the barest hint of _anyone_ who looked even the slightest bit odd, unusual or out-of-place. After a minute, he was getting rather frustrated, so he just stood back and let his gaze wander to a group of redheads with an owl –

_Wait a minute_. He did a double take. _They have an owl too? Well, this looks like a good sign…_

Deciding to take his chances, Harry made his way over to them, while the plump woman talked to what he supposed were her children.

After waiting a moment for her to stop talking so he wouldn't interrupt, Harry carefully said, "Uh, excuse me…"

The woman turned around and looked at Harry with a pleasant smile on her face. "Yes, dear?"

"Well, I noticed you have an owl too, so, I…"

"You're going to Hogwarts too?" she asked, dropping her voice a few notches so no one else could hear them.

"Yes."

"Well, it's actually quite simple, my dear. Behind that wall which divides platforms nine and ten, there is a barrier. As long as it's open, you can run through it."

_Another illusion,_ Harry thought. _Figures._

"Well, then, why don't I show you how to go through it? Percy, would you like to demonstrate?"

What appeared to be her oldest son, who wore horn-rimmed glasses and had neatly-combed hair, walked forward. He waited for a break in the crowd, and then ran forward with his trunk in tow. For a moment, Harry was nervous that he would crash into the barrier… but to his great surprise he just vanished. Harry looked around to see if anyone had noticed that this older boy and his trunk had just vanished through a wall, but to his surprise, no one did.

"Ah, I think I get it now," Harry said. "May I try?" He figured that the sooner he was on the train and ready to go, the better.

"Of course, dear," the woman said.

"Thank you," Harry said. Lining himself up, he readied himself, waited for a break in the crowd… and he ran forward. Halfway from his starting point to the barrier, he thought he heard the woman say, "What a nice boy… so polite, too…"

Harry instinctively closed his eyes as he ran towards the barrier, just in case he really did crash into it… but when he felt no collision, he stopped running and finally opened his eyes.

He was now standing on a platform next to a scarlet train with the words HOGWARTS EXPRESS emblazoned on the side. Students were standing around with their families and relatives, their voices mixing in with the sounds of owls, cats and the occasional toad.

With nothing to hold him up now, Harry made his way towards the train and used the trunk's own subtle magic to lift it up onto the train, also holding Hedwig in her cage under his arm. From there, he easily guided it down the hall and into the nearest empty compartment.

With nothing else to do and no one else to talk to, Harry just made himself comfortable. After a moment, he opened up his trunk to get an Owl Treat for Hedwig.

As she enjoyed her meal, Harry heard the banter of the redhead family outside, who must have now all gotten onto the platform. Apparently, a pair of twin sons were making fun of their older brother (who had become a prefect), and there was also her youngest son who looked nervous and defensive about going, and an even younger girl who was asking why she couldn't go to Hogwarts (who was too young). Harry tried not to be an eavesdropper as their mother warned the twins that she didn't want to hear about them blowing up a toilet or something…

Soon enough, the train whistled, signaling that it was time to go. All four boys got on board, and their mother and sister waved them good-bye as the train picked up speed and disappeared around the corner behind the red and white painted gas holders (but not before the twins promised to send their younger sister a Hogwarts toilet seat) and into a tunnel. As he watched everything outside fly by, Harry settled himself in for a long ride.

* * *

Dumbledore was in the staff conference room, waiting for his three guests to come. They needed to discuss the safety of the second object which Hogwarts would now guard.

He had to admit, he was a little nervous; he could already feel his quick lunch unsettling in his stomach as he waited for them to arrive.

Soon enough, the married couple who had found the object came in through the fireplace via the Floo Network (although the wife had to help up her Muggle husband, who landed not-so-gracefully beyond the grate).

"Ah, Claire, it is so nice to see you again," Dumbledore said happily, his eyes twinkling. "And this must be your husband, Melbourne… I don't believe we've met."

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Melbourne said, shaking the old man's hand.

"Now, all we have to do is wait for the other guest to arrive," Dumbledore began to say.

"He is here," a heavily-accented voice said.

All three of them turned to see the Fish-Man standing there.

"I took it upon myself to learn your language," he said as he walked into the room.

"And you speak it very well," Dumbledore said, as a compliment.

The Fish-Man nodded.

Dumbledore seated himself at his usual seat at the head of the table. Taking the hint, the others seated themselves as well, with Melbourne and Claire on one side, facing the Fish-Man on the other side.

"Sir," Dumbledore addressed the Fish-Man, not knowing what else to address him by, "these are the Woolleys, who found your object after it crashed near their home. His name is Melbourne, and her name is Claire."

The Fish-Man bowed his head as greeting, but then looked intently at Melbourne. After a moment, he asked, "You are not magical?"

Melbourne shook his head. "No, my wife is a witch, but I'm not a wizard."

The Fish-Man accepted his explanation, and once that was settled, Dumbledore said, "Yes, well, I believe we should get down to business, then…"

Almost immediately, the Fish-Man asked the Woolleys why they had relinquished the object to Dumbledore. Together, they calmly answered that they felt it would be in better hands if it was left in Dumbledore's possession. The Fish-Man explained that the purpose of the last spell was to make sure that it found its way into the hands of the nearest people who understood just how important it was, and that they would be the ones to protect and guard it until he could retrieve it.

Husband and wife looked at each other before Claire spoke for the both of them. "We apologize, but we did not know that you wanted us to keep it strictly to ourselves until you could come back to retrieve it."

The Fish-Man merely nodded. "I understand," he said calmly. "I would also bring it back with me to my abode as soon as possible, but I am afraid that it would not be the wisest move at the moment."

"I take it this has to do with why you sent it away in the first place?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," the Fish-Man answered. "A dark being came to my abode, trying to attack me and take it from me."

Although he didn't show it, Dumbledore instantly became a little more suspicious at the mention of "a dark being." He then asked, "Could you please describe this 'dark being' for us?"

"It was like a small, dark cloud," the Fish-Man told them. "It had a definite pattern, as though it had a mind of its own – and it most likely did have a mind of its own. I even passed through it in a desperate gamble to escape, and it felt painful in many different ways as I did that."

Now Dumbledore was definitely feeling a little nervous and worried. _Could it possibly be Voldemort?_ he thought to himself.

"Well, at least now we know about this 'dark being' so we can be prepared for it," Dumbledore announced. "But now the question remains as to what should be done with this object, especially given its nature and how powerful it is."

"I have an idea," the Fish-Man declared. Turning to Dumbledore, he said, "You said that you could be trusted? Then I would like to trust you with the safety of the object."

Dumbledore was about to respond when the Fish-Man suddenly added, "Tell me, has this castle ever been used in the past to guard very powerful and potentially dangerous items."

The Philosopher's Stone immediately came to mind. "Yes, it has," Dumbledore answered, "and I have used it to successfully guard many such items during my tenure as the Headmaster of this school. In fact, I would be happy to provide you with examples."

The Fish-Man seemed to accept this answer. "Very well," he said at last. "I would like to design a method to guard my own special item. Something efficient enough to ensure that no one who does not deserve what they seek can acquire it."

After a little bit more of discussion, it was made apparent that Melbourne and Claire Woolley were practically relieved of their duty with guarding the Fish-Man's special object. Furthermore, the Fish-Man would be guarding his possession as he stayed with the merfolk as their guest, until the trap set for the item could be completed.

Once the discussion was over, the Fish-Man bade the other three farewell and walked to the door. He was at the threshold when Melbourne asked, "Wait… what is your name?"

The Fish-Man stopped, and then turned to look back at them. "For now, it may be best if my name is not known."

"Then what should we call you?" Melbourne asked.

The Fish-Man paused for a moment, considering whether to use his real name or maybe a "code name," before uttering a single word:

"_Oannes."_

* * *

The door to Harry's compartment slid open to reveal all four boys. "Well, I have to go to the prefect's meeting," the oldest brother – Percy, if Harry recalled correctly – said a little pompously.

"Have fun," the twins said together, smiling brightly.

Like some authoritative adult, Percy folded his arms and said, "Fred, George… I am a prefect this year, so do not make me have to put you in detention."

"Detention?" one twin (George) gasped in mock horror. "Oh no, not that!"

"Wow, you're wasting no time in exerting your authority, are you, Perce?" the other twin (Fred) asked.

Not quite sure how to respond, Percy grumbled something, turned around and left for the prefect's meeting.

Left alone, the twins decided to peruse their own agenda. "Well, we heard that Lee Jordan has a tarantula," Fred said, "so we'll see you later."

"Have fun with your new friend, Ron," George added to their youngest brother.

And with identical winks, they both left. Harry and this other boy – Ron – just looked at each other for a moment before either of them spoke.

"Hey, wait a minute," Ron said. "Aren't you that boy from the stationery store in Diagon Alley?"

Harry recognized him instantly. "Yeah, I am. Good to see you again."

Another moment before either of them spoke again, during which Ron sat down across from Harry.

"So… how did it go with the books or the old notes?" Harry asked.

Ron smiled a little. "Interesting tip… thanks, by the way. I guess having a bookworm like Percy as an older brother has its advantages. I never thought he'd be the kind to scribble in his books, but at least they're helpful scribbles.

"So," Ron said, changing the topic, "you play Quidditch at all?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I've read about it."

Even though now Ron didn't feel the need to explain the rules to him, he still rambled on a bit about how great a sport it was. "Do you fly at all?" Ron then asked. "You know, on a broomstick?"

"Yeah, I've been flying for a little while now. Got my own broomstick for my birthday."

"Wicked! Which one?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand," Harry told him.

If Harry had known how Ron would have reacted, he might have answered differently, lied, or not have answered at all, because Ron gave him a shocked and slightly jealous look. A moment after that, as Ron realized what he was doing, he quickly looked out the window.

Thinking back to their initial encounter in the stationary store, Harry remembered deducing how Ron's family might not have had all that much money, and then realized how Ron must have been defensive about it.

As was the case back then, Harry decided to share some similar experiences from his own life to try and make Ron feel better. In order to gain some trust, he had to give a little first.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad."

"I know, I know," Ron sighed. "It's really not your fault. I realize that it's how things are with my family, and I appreciate everything they do for me, but that doesn't mean I can't wish for it to be better, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed. "Remember what I told you back in Diagon Alley? About my own relatives? I wasn't lying about that."

"You said that they were Muggles?"

"Yes, why?"

"Were they all like that?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked uneasily.

"Are all Muggles that… well… mean?" Ron asked, searching for the right word.

"No, most of them are just fine," Harry explained. "However, you get a few bad people wherever you go… I'm sure the wizarding world has its own share of bad apples, right?"

Ron thought about it, and then nodded. "If you mean like You-Know-Who and his followers, or any other Dark wizards, then yeah, we have people like them."

"Yeah, Voldemort came to mind," Harry admitted.

Ron gasped.

"What is it?"

"_You said his name!"_ Ron whispered, looking around as though someone might have been watching them.

At this point, Harry was beginning to feel like he had just committed a serious faux pas. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would bother you."

"Not just me, but everyone else in our world," Ron said seriously.

"Sorry," Harry reiterated. "It's just another thing I wouldn't know, since I was brought up by Muggles."

They both sat in silence for a little while. Soon enough, the lunch trolley came, maneuvered by a smiling, dimpled woman who asked them, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Even though Harry had already brought lunch with him, he figured it wouldn't hurt just to see what he had. Even though he had never had candy often enough to feel a kind of addiction to it (like Dudley did), he did enjoy the occasional Mars Bar. However, this woman wasn't selling Mars Bars, or any other kind of Muggle candy, for that matter. She had all kinds of things which Harry had never seen before in his life, ranging from Chocolate Frogs to Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Is everything fine, dear?" the woman asked him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've never seen this stuff before in my life."

Not wanting to miss anything, he took a little of everything. After handing over the total of eleven sickles and seven Knuts, Harry brought it back with him to his seat.

Ron could only stare at the amount of candy which Harry brought back with him. "Hungry, are you?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't bring lunch?"

"Oh, I brought lunch," Harry said as he opened his trunk and took it out. "I just figured it couldn't hurt to try something new."

Ron took out his own lunch, and looked a little disappointed with it. "Corned beef," he said by way of explanation, indicating the couple of wrapped sandwiches. "I guess she forgot I don't like it."

Harry looked at his own package, which had a couple of egg salad sandwiches. "I've got egg salad sandwiches," he said, holding up one of them for Ron to see. "Here, I'll swap you one."

"You sure you want this?" Ron said. "It's kind of dry…"

"I'll be the judge of that," Harry said.

Ron only needed a second to think about it. "Deal," he declared, and with that, the two of them threw their respective sandwiches at each other.

Ron was right about the sandwich being kind of dry, but Harry didn't mind. "It's not bad," he said.

"This is great," Ron said, taking a huge bite out of his egg salad sandwich. "I have to give Mum some credit, doing what she can when she can, but you can imagine how busy it is, trying to make lunches for five of us."

"I understand," Harry said. "Still, your brothers don't seem so bad…"

Ron snorted. "You obviously haven't been around them long enough, then."

"They don't bully you or anything, do they?"

Ron thought about that. "Hm, I dunno… Fred and George might tease me from time to time, and Percy acts all strict… but no, I don't think they _bully_ me."

"They already sound a lot better than my cousin," Harry said. "I probably wouldn't mind having three older brothers."

"Five, actually," Ron said. "Bill and Charlie already graduated. Bill was Head Boy, Charlie was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, now Percy's a prefect, and Fred and George mess around a lot but are still Beaters for the Quidditch team. I guess you could say I have a lot to live up to… but no matter where I turn, one of my older brothers has done it first. I guess you could say I want to leave a mark of my own, and do my own things."

Harry nodded at Ron's monologue. In some small way, Harry could sympathize; he had also wanted to get out from under Dudley's shadow, but that was more because Dudley was a bully, and definitely not a model child.

However, at the same time, both boys noticed that each other were being very secretive and very careful about what they said, not wanting to reveal anything which they would feel embarrassed by. Harry was concerned about the truth of his horrible treatment by the Dursleys, and Ron was concerned about how his family was poor.

"Also, your younger sister… what's she like?" Harry asked.

"Ginny is… well… Ginny," Ron said with a shrug. "Stay away from her," he then warned as an afterthought.

As Harry finished the swapped corned beef sandwich, he decided to change the subject. Looking at the candy which he'd just purchased, he decided to try some of it.

Holding up the Chocolate Frog, Harry asked Ron, "This isn't a real frog, is it?"

Ron laughed. "No, of course not."

"Thanks, just checking," Harry said. He opened it up to find a chocolate frog… and a card?

"Oh, about those," Ron said, noticing the look of confusion on Harry's face. "Chocolate Frogs come with collectable cards. Each one is some famous witch or wizard. I've got about five hundred of those things, but I still haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"Here, maybe you'll find one," Harry said, tossing another Chocolate Frog at Ron. Ron, surprised at this gesture, just barely caught it.

"No, you really don't have to," Ron began to say, but Harry insisted, "Please, don't worry about it… I think I'm going to need help consuming all this candy, anyway."

Ron looked rather humbled by this generosity, but he didn't complain. As Ron eagerly opened his own Chocolate Frog, Harry looked at his own: It was Albus Dumbledore, with a moving picture of him on the front of the card and a short description about him on the back, which mentioned things like vanquishing a dark wizard called Grindelwald, the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with someone named Nicolas Flamel.

"Isn't this our Headmaster?" Harry asked Ron, showing him the card.

"Yeah, that's him," Ron said. "What do you say we go through the rest of the Frogs? See who else we can find. Maybe you can start collecting them." Looking at his own card, Ron said, "Aw, I got Morgana again, and I've already got six of her."

Harry thought about it, but only for a moment. Collecting something sounded like fun. "Sure, why not?" And with that, they got to work, eating the frogs and getting the cards.

After filling up on the Chocolate Frogs, they decided to put the rest of them away for now, but not before Harry had added to his collection Morgana, Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, Merlin, and the Druidess Cliodna.

Harry then made to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Uh, you might want to be careful with those," Ron warned him. "When they say _every_ flavor, they mean _every_ flavor, including some things you definitely wouldn't eat."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Ron listed off a few more outrageous and undesirable flavors, and Harry looked surprised. So, together, they carefully nibbled on the beans to see whether their flavors were okay or not. The strange ones which they wouldn't touch, Harry just put back in the bag. Ron looked at him curiously, but Harry just said, "Hey, you never know when these things might come in handy. It seems like a bit of a waste to buy them and then not eat them."

Feeling that he had sat in one place for long enough, Harry decided to maybe go for a short walk throughout the train. After putting all the leftover candy back in the trunk and securing it, he told Ron he would be right back, and left.

On the way, he passed a brown-haired girl and a nervous-looking round-faced boy.

"Excuse me," the girl said, "but have you seen a toad? Neville can't find him."

"I can't believe I lost him!" the boy – Neville – said in despair.

"No, sorry, but if I do find him, I'll let you know," Harry promised them.

The girl cocked her head. "Have we met?" she asked Harry. "You look familiar."

Now Harry recognized her; she was that girl in Flourish and Blotts with all the books. "Yeah, back in Flourish and Blotts," he said.

Her face brightened up. "Oh, so good to see you again! My name is Hermione, by the way."

"Nice to see you again too," Harry said politely, yet feeling a little disturbed by her enthusiasm. "I'll just continue on my way, but I'll also keep my eyes open for the toad." With that, he continued before they could ask him anything else.

The next car over, he was nearly run down by a stampede of older students fleeing in terror (most of them girls), but he managed to survive by flattening himself against the wall as they passed by. After they were gone, Harry heard some voices laughing. Curious, he went into the compartment where the laughter was coming from, and saw Ron's twin brothers laughing with a darker-skinned boy with dreadlocks.

"Oh, hey there!" one of the twins asked. "How's everything with our little brother?"

"He's fine, thanks. What just happened?"

"Oh, Lee here was just showing off his new pet," the other twin said. "Go on, Lee, show him."

Lee was slowly taking the lid off the box, just for effect, but then Harry just rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, enough with the suspense, just show me already!"

"Very well," Lee grinned, "if you say so." With that, he whipped off the top of the box. Inside, Harry saw a big tarantula which was easily the size of his own hand.

However, instead of being frightened, Harry found himself almost intrigued. "Aw, cute little guy," Harry said.

"You like him?" one twin asked.

"Well, I'm not frightened by him, if that's what you mean," Harry responded.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I like this lad!" the other twin said, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Heh, thanks." Harry was about to say something else when he suddenly felt something. Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he saw an image of someone trying to break into his trunk. He remembered how Pim told him how he would know if anyone tried that.

"Nice to see you again, and nice tarantula, but I think I just remembered something," Harry said. "See you later." He then calmly walked out of the compartment, but after that, he quickly ran back to his own compartment.

Inside, he saw a pale boy with blond hair harassing Ron, as well as the Hermione and Neville. But he wasn't alone; he was accompanied by two big, hulking boys whom Harry thought would have felt right at home in Dudley's old gang. Currently, as the blond boy was harassing Ron, one of the two bigger boys was cornering Hermione and Neville while the other one was trying to break into Harry's trunk, which refused to open even a millimeter. Hedwig was still in her cage, but it was lying on its side on the floor, and so she was frantically flapping her wings and screeching as loudly as he could.

"Will someone just shut that ruddy bird up?" the blond drawled. "Well, what have we here, friends? A Weasley, a Longbottom and some Muggle-born from a family which no one's ever heard of before. A pathetic bunch if I ever saw one. Now, I don't know whose trunk this is, but I'm sure it has something nice inside. Maybe some leftover sweets from earlier?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Malfoy," Ron sneered.

"That's Draco Malfoy to you, you sorry excuse for a wizard," the other boy – Draco Malfoy – sneered right back at him.

Now Harry recognized him: He was from Madam Malkin's shop back in Diagon Alley.

Harry barely had time to muse about how he kept running into all these other students whom he previously encountered a month ago, because now he felt his anger rising. However, he still made sure he kept calm and didn't do anything rash. Making sure he had his wand handy, he came into view of everyone else in the compartment.

"What are you doing?" Harry said, calmly yet clearly. All six of them stopped where they were and turned to see him standing there.

"I don't see how it's any business of yours," Malfoy sneered. He quickly drew his own wand and shot nasty-looking red sparks at Harry.

Harry didn't know what Malfoy would have thrown at him, but either way, he didn't want to get hit by it. He swiftly moved aside, letting the sparks fly past him. But during that moment, the movement from dodging the sparks swept aside a tuft of Harry which was hiding his scar from view.

He saw Malfoy's eyes widen in realization as he saw the scar. Even after the sparks had vanished, Malfoy just stood there for a second or two as he digested this new revelation.

"You… you're Harry Potter," he muttered.

Harry knew he couldn't enjoy this fragile cloak of anonymity any longer, so he just confronted his concerns about how other people might perceive him head-on. "Yes, that would be me," he said in a curt tone, not taking his eyes off Malfoy.

Harry had his eyes locked with Malfoy's so intently that he really didn't see the reactions of the room's other occupants, although he did hear Neville give a gasp of surprise, and maybe Hermione, too.

For a split second, Harry broke contact with Malfoy to see the reaction on Ron's face: His jaw hung from the surprise, but he also looked a little betrayed, as though he had been the butt of some big joke.

Even Hedwig, still lying on her side in her lopsided cage, seemed to be quiet at this moment.

_I hope he understands,_ Harry thought in regards to Ron as he looked back at Malfoy, who now had a calculating look on his face.

"You know," Malfoy said, suddenly changing his tone and wearing a smile which Harry didn't find reassuring at all, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Sorry about that. My name is Draco Malfoy, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter. I hope we can move past this little… misunderstanding. Maybe we could be friends."

Malfoy stuck out his hand in an obvious attempt to shake hands with Harry, but Harry didn't accept it. However, he had to admit, this other boy had some serious guts if he could so calmly lie like that in an attempt to weasel his way out of trouble, as well as propose that they could be friends.

"I don't know," Harry said coolly, purposely keeping a neutral tone and stance. "I don't typically try to make friends with people who try and go through my things and harass other people."

Malfoy's face went an unpleasant pink at the realization that he had been caught going through Harry Potter's trunk by Harry Potter himself. On the side, Ron had a wicked smirk on his face, and was now looking rather amused.

Malfoy happened to catch Ron's reaction out of the corner of his eye and then turned to confront the redhead. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Weasley. I don't think a family like yours could _afford_ to take on a family as wealthy as mine."

Ron's face instantly went red, and looked about ready to say something which probably wouldn't have been good. Thinking fast, Harry then innocently and logically asked Malfoy, "If your family is so wealthy, then why would you have to steal sweets from me?"

Especially with how Harry asked it in an innocent tone, it made Malfoy look even stupider and foolish in front of everyone, and Ron actually sniggered for all to hear.

"Crabbe, Goyle," Malfoy snapped, "get him!"

The other two boys disengaged from cornering Ron, Hermione and Neville, and turned their attention to Harry. They immediately flanked Harry, getting ready to punch him; they drew their fists back, let loose…

…Only to end up punching each other square in the face as Harry deftly moved out of the way at the last moment.

As the two of them fell to the floor, groaning, on either side of Harry, he turned back to face Malfoy. However, Harry wasn't really in the mood for taking on Malfoy or getting into any more violence… but then he got an idea.

"Fine," Harry said quietly, as he strode over to his trunk. As he touched it, it popped open, and with one swift movement, Harry snatched the box full of unwanted Every Flavor Beans and threw it at Malfoy. "Take it… since you obviously can't get any on your own."

Malfoy made no comment of any kind, but instead just sneered at Harry and the others before taking the Every Flavor Beans with him, telling Crabbe and Goyle to get up, and stalking out of the compartment with his two goons following behind him.

However, at the door, Malfoy decided to deliver one last parting shot. "I would also be _very_ careful if I were you, Potter. The Dark Lord was very intolerant of_your_ kind."

After they left, Harry turned his attention to the others. "Are all of you alright?" he asked them as he set Hedwig's cage up straight.

"Yeah, we're fine," Ron said, although he was still reeling a little from what had just happened in the past few minutes.

"Wow, you're really Harry Potter?" Hermione asked excitedly. Harry barely nodded once when she introduced herself as Hermione Granger and immediately launched into a long, tedious explanation all the different books which Harry was mentioned in, which then somehow mutated into an explanation about which House she wondered she would be sorted into, which then somehow led to an explanation about she was the first witch in her family who had never even heard of Hogwarts until she got the letter…

It was only after Ron coughed (which sounded suspiciously like an "_Ahem"_ to Harry's ears) that Hermione stopped with her talking.

"Well, I think we had better keep looking for Neville's toad," Hermione announced in an authoritative kind of way, one which annoyed Harry just a little. With that, she led Neville out, both of them looking for the boy's toad.

Harry turned to Ron and asked, "What's with that?"

Ron shrugged. "They were in here, looking for his toad, when Malfoy and his goons came in," he explained. Remembering something else, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter?"

Harry felt uncomfortable about it, and unless he was imagining it, he could hear the slightest trace of betrayal in Ron's voice. "I didn't think it was important," he said simply. "Besides… I don't think I like the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' thing. I'm just famous because I survived an attack on my family which killed my parents. Hardly the kind of thing I'd like to be remembered for."

Ron looked surprised, but deep down, he was resisting the urge to let his mouth hang agape. Whatever he was expecting from Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived… this wasn't it. From the way the great Harry Potter had been described to Ron as he was growing up, he almost expected to see some kind of divine aura of light around the boy now sitting in front of him, who looked just about as ordinary as the next boy – in the wizarding world or the Muggle world.

"By the way," Harry was saying, cutting through Ron's thoughts, "What did he mean with that last line about '_my_ kind?'"

Ron looked at him for a moment, thinking about how to explain this. "Do you know exactly why You-Know-Who was fighting and trying to take over?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really… I imagine he just wanted to take over and be in charge."

"You-Know-Who believed certain things, and so did his followers," Ron explained. "There's this ideology which has gone back for centuries, that 'pureblood' witches and wizards – that is, those who come from entirely magical families – are superior to other witches and wizards, and are more powerful than them. These bigots even have a special, nasty word for Muggle-born witches and wizards, which you shouldn't say or repeat in front of anyone." At Harry's blank look, Ron looked around before deciding, and then continued, "Okay, I'll say just this once: _Mudblood_. Trust me when I say you shouldn't repeat it."

Harry nodded, and Ron concluded: "Anyway, You-Know-Who wanted to make this new order, where purebloods were superior. For years, Voldemort fought the Ministry of Magic and terrorized the country, killing Muggles, Muggle-borns, some halfbloods, and anyone who defended them or didn't agree with him. Even if you were from a pureblood family and stood against him, you were labeled a 'blood traitor' and were considered to be just as bad as a Muggle-born."

Harry took in this information with shock and some disgust. Finally, he said, "You mean to tell me that this same Vol-, sorry, You-Know-Who who targeted my family was some genocidal madman?" (Here, Harry wanted to use that infamous dictator Adolf Hitler as an example, but he wasn't sure if Ron knew who he was.)

Ron nodded grimly. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. My family was also targeted; we were one of the few pureblood families which stood up to him."

"Hagrid told me that my mother was a Muggle-born witch. I don't know about my father, though…"

"I'm sure all Potters were on the side of the Light," Ron said, recalling what he could. "But the fact that your dad married your mum and had you as a son would have been enough justification for You-Know-Who to come after you… no offense."

"None taken," Harry said absently. "'Any excuse will serve a tyrant,'" Harry muttered to himself, quoting Pim from one of many philosophical dialogues which the two of them had had.

Ron looked at him for a moment before saying, "I hope I didn't upset you."

Harry shook his head. "No, that's okay, Ron, it's not your fault. Actually, I should be thankful for the information you've just given me." Looking off to one side, he muttered, "I thought something about Malfoy rubbed off on me the wrong way when I first ran into him…"

At the curious look on Ron's face, Harry explained about his encounter with Malfoy a month ago in Diagon Alley. "In fact, I actually saw him first before I ran into you at the stationary store."

"I've heard of his family," Ron said darkly. "After the war was over and You-Know-Who vanished, they came back, saying they'd been put under a spell to follow him… although if you ask me, they didn't need a spell to follow him."

Throughout the entire ride, the train had gone through one environment after another: First, they had gone through the city after leaving the station, then they had gone through suburbs, and then through the countryside, and now they were going through a shaded forest, made even darker by how it was late in the evening.

With minutes to spare before they pulled into the station, Harry and Ron changed into their school uniforms, and quickly put all their things away. During the rush, Harry found a fat gray rat near Ron's stuff, snoozing gently.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry asked, carefully picking up the rat and showing it to him.

"Oh, thanks," Ron said, relieving Harry of the rat. "This is Scabbers, my pet rat. He was originally Percy's, but after he became a prefect, Mum and Dad got him an owl, and so I got Scabbers."

"What should we do about our stuff?" Harry asked.

As if to answer his question, a voice echoed through the train, announcing how they would be reaching Hogwarts within a few minutes, and the luggage would be taken to the school separately.

"Well, I guess that answers your question," Ron chuckled. "However, you might want to let your owl out of her cage, let her fly up to the Owlrey."

"Good idea," Harry said, going over to Hedwig in her cage. After he opened it up, Hedwig got onto his arm and nipped at his ear. "See you later, girl," he said as he opened the window for her. She hooted and flew out.

After the train finally came to a complete stop, Harry moved with the other students off the train and into the station.

However, a familiar voice was calling, "Firs' year students, firs' years, over here!"

"Hagrid?" Harry called to the owner of that voice.

"Harry, you alright?" Hagrid called back.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. Now jus' follow the other firs' years! Firs' years, follow me!"

With that, Hagrid led them away from the rest of the student body, down a steep, narrow path, and down to the water. There were a lot of small boats were floating on its surface, each one capable of holding up to four students. Once they were all ready to go, they took off, silently gliding across the water's surface.

About halfway through the voyage across the lake, Harry thought he heard something. Turning around, he could see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle on another boat all to themselves; Malfoy was spitting something out and looking like he had just eaten something horrible. Harry looked closer and saw that Malfoy was clutching the box of Every Flavor Beans which he had given him to make him go away. Between themselves, he and Ron shared an amused look.

Soon enough, Hogwarts itself came into view, eliciting excited sounds from everyone else. Not long after that, they were docking at a quay under the passage itself, and everyone was getting out. Even during all the hubbub, Hagrid still managed to find Neville's toad Trevor and return the toad to its master.

Hagrid led them over to a door, which he knocked on, and soon enough, it opened to reveal a strict-looking woman.

"Here are the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, "I will take them from here."

Professor McGonagall led them all inside, as they walked with her in the led, she welcomed them to Hogwarts and explained about such things like Houses and points. She then left them alone for a moment and suggested that some of them might want to "freshen up." However, as she was looking at them one last time before leaving them, Harry could have sworn that she looked at him for a moment as though there was something more to him.

The few minutes that they waited there were relatively uneventful (except for when the ghosts came out of the wall, startling them), and soon enough, Professor McGonagall was back.

She led them into the Great Hall from a side entrance, where the rest of the students were already seated. Harry felt nervous with all the people looking at him, so he instead looked upwards, where he saw the night sky, as though the Great Hall simply opened up to the heavens (Hermione whispered to Harry about how it was enchanted to look like the sky outside, or so she read in_Hogwarts: A History_). In front of the group of first-years was a four-legged stool, upon which sat an old hat.

Harry and the other first-year students stood there while there was a moment of silence (during which time Harry wondered if he had to take a rabbit out of it), and the hat suddenly came to life: Two of its patches became its "eyes," a wide seam along the brim became its "mouth," and then it began to sing a song. It described how Gryffindor was for the "brave at heart," Hufflepuff was for those "unafraid of toil," Ravenclaw was for "those of wit and learning," and Slytherin were for those "cunning folk" who would do anything to achieve their ends. Well, at least this sounded fair and impartial enough for Harry.

After the Sorting Hat finished its song and the rest of the school applauded, Professor McGonagall began calling names. Harry and the others watched as their fellow first-years became the new members for this House or that one, starting with a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails, named Hannah Abbott, who was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

Hary himself was nervous about it all, being put in the spotlight like this – it brought back not-so-pleasant memories from primary school when being picked for teams – and most of the others were nervous as well, but a few of them seemed excited by it all. Once her name was called, Hermione Granger practically ran to the Hat and eagerly jammed it on. When it announced "GRYFFINDOR!" about a minute later, Harry heard Ron groan loudly enough so that he would have been heard by the entire hall if it wasn't for all the applause from the Gryffindor table.

There were also occasional blunders, such as when Neville Longbottom ran to try on the Hat. After it finally announced "GRYFFINDOR!" a while later, Neville actually tried to run to the Gryffindor table with the Hat still on, eliciting a round of laughter from everyone else.

Harry also noted with cautious interest how Draco Malfoy was instantly Sorted into "SLYTHERIN!" after strutting up to the Hat as if he owned it.

There was also a brief moment of confusion when the name of one "Sally-Anne Perks" was called but no one came forward. After that brief moment of confusion, Headmaster Dumbledore got up and called across the Great Hall to Professor McGonagall, "Professor McGonagall, I believe that Sally-Anne Perks has been removed from the list of first-year students. It seems she has withdrawn from the school. Please continue."

Professor McGonagall continued, but only after people took a moment to whisper and murmur to themselves about how a student eligible for Hogwarts actually withdrew or didn't come. Harry guessed that it must have been unheard of. Exactly how many potential students turned down the opportunity to go to Hogwarts, or signed up to go to Hogwarts, only to withdraw from it later? He made a mental note to ponder about it later.

He wasn't that deep in thought, but he still suddenly jolted when Professor McGonagall announced his name. No sooner than Harry had started walking towards the Hat than the rest of the occupants in the hall began whispering and murmuring to themselves again, but this time, about whether or not this was actually "_The_ Harry Potter."

Harry's sight when dark after the Hat fell over his eyes, and he heard a small voice in his ear: "Ah, young Mister Harry Potter, so nice to meet you at least, yes, such a pleasure. Now, which House to put you in… BY THE FOUNDERS!" (The last part was shouted for the entire Great Hall to hear, and it made just about everyone, even the teachers, jump out of their seats.)

Suddenly, the Hat began to start stuttering and blabbering for the rest of the hall to hear… "GRYFF – no… HUFF – no… RAV – no… SLYTH – no… ergh…"

The rest of the students began to whisper and murmur amongst themselves even more now, curious was to what Harry Potter had somehow done to the Sorting Hat. Deep down, the students in each House were secretly hoping that Harry Potter would be Sorted into their House (maybe except for the Slytherins – they were split on that issue themselves).

_I'm sorry!_ Harry automatically thought, out of reflex. _I didn't mean to do anything…_

"No, no, not your fault, Mister Potter," the Hat said calmly to Harry in the small voice again. "It's just that I've really never had a young student before who could do just as well in _any_ of the Four Houses."

_I don't understand._

"First of all, let me explain. Everyone has all those values cherished by all four Houses, but some of them just have more of these particular virtues than those particular virtues, and so that's where I come in.

"I know what you're thinking, young Potter: It sounds flawed. Well, it is flawed, because the people who made it this way were flawed, because they were just as human as you are. After all, the whole universe certainly isn't divided up into Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins."

_I agree there._

"So, now that we have that understood, we need to Sort you. So… let's narrow it down.

"I can see that you are a hard-working individual and wouldn't mind getting along with other people, especially as opposed to fighting with them. However, I sense that you also have something of an independent streak in you, and would sometimes rather be alone or do things alone – not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. And, on top of that, you realize you can't get along with everyone. So, maybe Hufflepuff isn't your fit.

"Then there's your more studious nature. I can see that you have some wisdom beyond your years. You have good study habits, although I wouldn't consider that to automatically be a Ravenclaw trait; if that was the case, most of the students from the other three Houses would be failing or dropping out. You like to read, but outside of class, you often read more for pleasure than to fulfill this infinite desire to absorb as much knowledge and information as you can, because you know that knowledge is infinite and you can't know everything. So, I'm not so sure about Ravenclaw either.

"That leaves us with Gryffindor and Slytherin, two Houses with a mean rivalry going all the way back to the Founders themselves. Just between you and me, the two Houses may not be so different, at least in some ways. They can both be very stubborn in what they do and when it comes to fighting for their causes; Gryffindors tend to fight more for what is right for everyone while Slytherins tend to fight more for what is best for themselves. It's amazing, really, how opposites can have so much in common with each other. Given your mixed upbringing, that makes it rather hard for me to choose between the two…"

At the mention of Harry's upbringing, he immediately began to worry. _No, don't tell anyone, not about the Dursleys or about Pim! Please!_

"Relax, Mister Potter. Your secrets are safe with me. Everything that goes on between me and the students remains absolutely confidential.

"So, back to the topic of where to put you… you developed some more Slytherin-like characteristics from your time with your relatives, because after all, you did what you had to do to survive, but on the other hand, you have definitely developed some more Gryffindor-like characteristics from your time with your new mentor and guardian. You maintain the secrecy, but of course, that's more to protect yourself from people knowing about where you fled from and where you reside now. Besides, Slytherin could help you on the path to greatness."

_I'm not too keen about Slytherin, but that's because I'm concerned about some of the other students in that House. Some of them have ties to Voldemort, and joining that House might be putting myself in danger. On top of that, they don't seem too… welcoming. Besides, I'm really not interested in becoming "great."_

"Oh, I do so _hate_ it when politics interferes with something, don't you? Trust me, I am not oblivious to this either, and just between you and me, I think all four of the Houses have deviated a bit from what they once were, but in Slytherin's case, a lot of the current occupants are ambitious enough to be there, but their only ambitions are to obtain more of what they already have. Actually, if you were placed in Slytherin, you could probably do something good to improve the House's reputation as some kind of breeding ground for Dark witches and wizards.

"However, nor am I oblivious to the danger you perceive yourself to be in if you were placed in Slytherin House. I agree, putting you with them, especially when quite a few of them have ties to Voldemort's followers and minions, does not sound strategically wise to me."

Harry gave the mental equivalent of an acknowledging nod to this. _I don't suppose you can just_not _sort me into any of the four Houses? You know, like an independent program or something? That way, you won't have to worry about sorting me into any one House._

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Potter. I can't put a student into _none_ of the Houses – or, just in case you're thinking it, more than one of the Houses. My job is to take a student and sort him or her into one of the four Houses which is most appropriate for said student."

_It is time to do this,_ the Hat thought to itself.

"You seem to be very thoughtful and insightful, Mister Potter, and it would be nice to talk with you more, but alas, I still have to Sort you and the rest of the first-year students, and let things continue. So, to conclude this, I, the Sorting Hat, hereby sort you, Harry Potter, into…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table exploded with applause and cheers. After Percy vigorously shook Harry's hand and Fred and George ceased with their calls of "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry learned that he had been under the Sorting Hat for several minutes. Now Harry could see the High Table properly, and at the center of it was Albus Dumbledore, just like he had seen on the Chocolate Frog card.

After Harry, there were only a handful of students left to go, including Ron. It only took a moment or two before the Hat also declared him a "GRYFFINDOR!" and he walked over, looking a little shaky but very relieved.

After the Hat Sorted a dark-skinned boy named Blaise Zabini into Slytherin, thus ending the Sorting Ceremony, Professor McGonagall collected the Sorting Hat and its stool and took them away. Once she had rejoined her colleagues at the High Table, Dumbledore got up to address everyone.

"Welcome!" he announced to the students, his arms opened wide. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

As he sat back down, everybody clapped and cheered. However, Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not, so he just settled for an amused smirk.

Harry also made eye contact for a moment with Hagrid, who gave the thumbs-up sign back to him. As Harry turned back around, he suddenly saw Ron stuffing his face with food. Harry was about to ask the redhead where he got the food when he saw all the food laid out on the table before him, which must have somehow appeared in the moment during which he was looking at Hagrid.

All of the food looked so good… it looked as though better versions of the same food could not possibly exist. Were he not such a conservative diner, who only ate what he needed (and maybe then some), he might have gorged himself upon it. So, deciding to limit himself, he took a little bit of each from the various samples of meat and vegetables, and even took a peppermint humbug from the strange offering of those.

Harry didn't start any conversations of his own, but instead would occasionally listen to those of other students who wanted to share their thoughts with everyone else, such as when Seamus Finnigan joked about how it was a "bit of a nasty shock" for his Muggle father to find out that his mother was a witch after they were married. Harry even joined in with some laughter after Neville Longbottom shared a story about some magical accident of his, which somehow related to how he got his toad familiar, Trevor.

He also saw how nervous some of his fellow first-year students were, and while some of the older Gryffindors reassured the new students about some things, a few of them (namely Fred and George) took it upon themselves to scare the first-years by telling them of some of the things they would have to deal with. Meanwhile, Hermione was asking Percy about the classes which she would be taking.

Harry looked around, and suddenly, he found himself looking at – or maybe even _through_ – one of the ghosts. This one wore a ruff, and was looking at him curiously.

"Excuse me, young sir, but by any chance are you Harry Potter?" the ghost asked him.

"Yes, that would be me," Harry said carefully.

"Oh, I did not recognize you by your scar," the ghost said. "I was just astonished… I've encountered and known a few of your ancestors over the past few centuries. You bear quite a resemblance to your father and other ancestors on his side of the family."

Harry was about to ask how old this ghost was, but then realized that asking "how old" might not be the right thing to say. So, Harry asked, "Why, how long have you been around?"

"I have been a ghost for nearly five hundred years," the ghost said matter-of-factly. "Actually, I haven't introduced myself, how silly of me… Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"Hey, you must be Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron exclaimed. "My brothers told me about you!"

After a round of questions as to how he could be_nearly_ headless, the ghost sighed and demonstrated by pulling on his left ear; the result was how his whole neck swung off his neck and onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge.

Harry winced. "I don't think I want to know," he mumbled.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, I assure you," Nearly Headless Nick said smoothly. "Besides, I'm sure that my story can't be as morbid as that of the Bloody Baron."

At the blank looks, Nick calmly pointed to the horrible ghost sitting at the Slytherin table, close to Malfoy, who didn't look pleased by it.

When asked about how the Bloody Baron got all covered in blood, Nick just delicately said, "I've never asked."

"So, Harry," Ron said, deciding to strike up a conversation with him, "what do you think about Gryffindor so far?" Ron said it as though he had already been in Gryffindor House for a while.

"I wouldn't know, Ron, I just got here myself," Harry said casually and yet matter-of-factly. A few other Gryffindors laughed at this.

"I mean at least you're not in the same House as Malfoy or those other Slytherins," Ron said cheerfully.

Harry really wasn't sure what to say to that. He had also noticed how Ron spoke so fondly about Gryffindor just as Malfoy spoke so fervently about Slytherin.

"Ron, let me ask you something," Harry said carefully. "Have any of the other three Houses had any Dark witches or wizards?"

Ron frowned and furrowed his brow. "I don't think so," he said after a moment.

"Aren't there any witches or wizards from Slytherin who didn't go evil, but were good?" Harry added. "Just out of curiosity."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, as if he was having a hard time dealing with the use of the words "_Slytherin"_ and "_good"_ used together in the same sentence. "If there were any, I wouldn't know," he said at last.

Harry sighed. "Nevermind," he grumbled. He decided that now was a good time to drop it, especially since a few other Gryffindors were giving him funny looks too.

Soon enough, dinner was replaced by dessert, and they had so many different kinds of things that Harry didn't quite know what to try first. As with the candy back on the train, Harry decided that trying this new stuff at least once wouldn't hurt.

During the dessert course, Harry just happened to glance at the High Table, where he saw most of the teachers talking with each other, including Professor Quirrell talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Suddenly, the other teacher looked past Quirrell and looked at Harry. For a moment, the two of them made eye contact – and the next moment, Harry felt a stinging sensation where his scar was on his forehead.

Harry broke off eye contact and looked away, rubbing his head.

"Hey, everything alright?" Fred asked. The twins were looking at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said. "It was nothing." After a moment, he asked, "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

Indeed, the hook-nosed teacher was talking to Quirrell again as though nothing had just happened.

"Oh, that's Snape," George said with mock happiness. "He teaches Potions."

"Except he doesn't want to teach Potions, and everyone knows it," Fred explained. "He'd much rather teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Snape knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, so watch your step," George added.

Harry nodded. "Thanks." With that, he decided to put Professor Snape out of his mind and get back to the feast.

After the desserts also disappeared, Dumbledore stood up, and the hall fell silent to listen to him.

"So, now that we are fed and watered, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you…"

Dumbledore listed off how the forest on the grounds was forbidden to all students, how no magic should be used between classes in the corridors, how Quidditch trials would be held in the second week of the term… but there was also a new announcement for this year, about how "the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry held back a laugh at hearing this, but he also noticed that very few other people did laugh.

"Well, I was going to get out the school song for the first time in ages, but I can see that all of you are rather tired, and want to go to sleep… especially since none of you want to miss your first day of classes tomorrow," Dumbledore said, smiling. "So, off to bed. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Harry didn't know exactly what to expect out of the castle, but for some reason, he felt that it shouldn't have to be so complicated with all the doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

Soon enough (although after a brief encounter with Peeves, the school's poltergeist), they were at the end of a corridor, standing in front of a hanging portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. After she asked for the password and Percy gave it ("Caput Draconis"), the portrait swung open and they climbed through into the Gryffindor common room.

From there, they crossed the room, and the girls went up one staircase to their dormitory and the boys went up the other to their own, where their trunks were waiting for them next to their four-poster beds. Most of them were just too tired to talk, so they just pulled on their pajamas and went to bed.

Even though he didn't eat too much, Harry had a strange dream. He dreamed that he was being told by some disembodied voice (which was coming from either Quirrell's turban or the Sorting Hat, he couldn't tell which) that this wasn't his destiny, that he should go elsewhere to achieve the true greatness he deserved. He tried to run from the voice, but wherever he turned to run, there was someone there blocking his path. First, there was Malfoy, gloating over him; then there was Snape, sneering at him; and then Harry ran into a deathly white figure with gleaming red eyes, which he only saw for a split-second or less before there was a flash of green light, accompanied by a cold, cruel laugh…

Harry then woke up in the darkness, sweating and shaking a little… only to fall back asleep, blissfully unknowing of the nightmare he just had.

* * *

Once Albus Dumbledore was back in his office and was sure that no one could witness him do so (aside from Fawkes the phoenix and the portraits, of course), he let out a big sigh of relief.

Harry Potter was now safe and sound here at Hogwarts, and under Dumbledore's careful eye. Now he could make sure that Harry was alright.

However, new questions began to form in Dumbledore's mind… Where had Harry been all this time? Why did it almost look as though the Dursleys had never mistreated him? Was someone else looking after him, or was Harry somehow managing to survive all on his own?

Subconsciously, Dumbledore was preparing to compare and contrast young Harry Potter to young Tom Riddle, but then he stopped himself just in time. He would _not_ get into that now. If he really had to mentally compare and contrast the two boys, present and past, he would do so later and after he met Harry for himself.

Dumbledore knew now that placing Harry with the Dursleys was probably one of the worst ideas he had ever had – he had the guilt and the nightmares to show for it – and he just wanted to rectify his mistake. But at the same time, he didn't feel as though he could simply come to Harry and apologize profusely for that decision, because he needed the boy's trust if they were going to work together for Dumbledore to mentor Harry in how to fight Voldemort.

Even though he wanted to do so, even now, Dumbledore was not so sure about adopting Harry himself. He still feared suspicions and even accusations about things such as favoritism. Still, maybe he could see if one of the more trustworthy, noble families in wizarding Britain would be willing to adopt him, such as the Weasley family or the Longbottom family.

Of course, that was assuming that Harry didn't already have someone looking after him. In which case, Dumbledore would like to meet whoever was taking care of Harry.

Still, it could wait a few days. Dumbledore figured to give Harry a week, just to settle into life at Hogwarts and adjust to it, before asking to talk to him. Just knowing that young Mr. Potter was present and accounted for at Hogwarts was enough for now.

Even though now it was late, Dumbledore remembered how he had to contact a few different people and let them know that their respective objects had been secured.

First, Dumbledore contacted Nicholas Flamel. With a pinch of Floo powder thrown into the fireplace which turned the fire green, as well as a special password to gain access through this particular grate, Dumbledore stuck his head through and into Flamel's fireplace.

"Nicholas?" Dumbledore called out.

"Right here, Albus," Nicholas Flamel said as he walked into view and knelt in front of the grate, from whence Dumbledore's head was sticking out.

"Good evening, Nicholas," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I just wanted to let you know that the Stone is safe and secure."

"Oh, you have it well-defended, do you? I know I told you that I didn't care about whatever defenses you put up, so long as it was well-defended."

Flamel saw that twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, and he said, "Oh, don't tell me… you really went the extra mile, didn't you?"

"I played my part, Nicholas, but so did many of the other professors. We all contributed something of our own."

Flamel laughed heartily at that. "I don't suppose you can give me a tour of it sometime?"

Dumbledore shrugged as if to say _Why not?_ "I am sure it can be arranged, old friend."

"I might just take up your offer some other time. Thanks again for calling me about this, Albus, I really appreciate it."

"You are certainly welcome, Nicholas. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

On its shelf, the Sorting Hat sat… and thought.

The Hat knew that a lot of people probably would have been disappointed that he wasn't Sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or even Slytherin, but it just hoped that those people would understand why Harry Potter was Sorted into Gryffindor.

First of all, Harry's special traits for all four Houses were not absolutely perfect and on level with each other – after all the Sorting Hat had been doing its job for a thousand years, so he knew that no one was _that_ perfect – so from there, the Hat had to narrow it down.

Harry, while hard-working, was too independent for Hufflepuff, and while he had good study habits, he was not studious or obsessive enough for Ravenclaw. But as for the tie between Slytherin and Gryffindor… well, that was where things got interesting.

One thing which the Sorting Hat disliked was the system of Houses being forced on the students. In its own honest opinion, it made it hard for the staff to preach to the students about inter-House unity and getting along with each other when they were dividing the students up at the same time. True, the Sorting Hat and every professor in the school's history were just supporting the Founders' final decision to put students into Houses even after they were long gone… but the Hat had a shrewd feeling that if the Founders could have seen what had become of their Houses in the centuries since then, they might have reconsidered. (Personally, the Hat sometimes wished that it could just sit on a shelf for hundreds of years rather than come out once a year with a fancy song and then split up the students, adding to the continuing lack of unity between the Houses.)

In a way, Harry Potter being Sorted into Gryffindor was kind of based on politics. While it was Sorting the boy, the Sorting Hat could just _feel_ the sheer potential which the boy had. This young wizard had the potential to change the world, especially for the better. The Hat knew all too well about how a person's House from his or her Hogwarts days could carry into their adult, post-Hogwarts lives and hang over them for the rest of their lives.

The Sorting Hat knew full well about the prejudice against Slytherin, as well as the prejudice which most Slytherins had. A good portion of them, through the centuries and even to this present day, had maintained those illogical prejudices against those who didn't have "pure blood." It was these kinds of things which gave Slytherin House such a bad reputation.

However, at the same time, the rest of the school (but mostly Gryffindors) had developed this kind of "counter-prejudice," this reverse discrimination against Slytherins, thinking them all to be evil. So, even some Muggle-borns or wizards who didn't follow that ridiculous "pure blood" ideology got lumped together with those who did, and as a result, hated the rest of the school for itself. It didn't help either that those same pureblood bigots took it upon themselves to represent and speak for the rest of their House. It was just a vicious cycle, back and forth.

So, that was where Harry Potter came in. If he was Sorted into Slytherin, the rest of the world would unfairly criticize him for all eternity. It probably wouldn't have mattered if Potter did something significant, like curing lycanthropy of giving Squibs magic, the rest of the wizarding world might have still rendered his accomplishments null and void, just because he was a _Slytherin_.

Well, that and the fact that placing him in the House which also had most of the children of Voldemort's supporters was obviously a recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, if Harry Potter was Sorted into Gryffindor, the seeming golden House of them all, people would definitely be more willing to listen to him then, and then Harry could use that to his advantage to put an end to the silly House prejudices and even the other prejudices in the wizarding world, simply because he was a _Gryffindor_.

Ultimately, between both the boy's traits and the good he could do if things happened a certain way, the Sorting Hat was confident in its decision to place Harry Potter in Gryffindor.

Besides, being Sorted into one House should not stop a student from getting along with those in other Houses, right?

Confident in its decisions, as well as glad that he had finished another Sorting Ceremony, the Sorting Hat settled itself in for the night and went to what could be considered "sleep." After all, it had to get up bright and early the next morning – especially if it was going to come up with a new song for next year's Sorting!

* * *

On a remote edge of the Hogwarts grounds, in the shadow of a tree, a dark being floated silently.

It was observing the castle, longing for what was hidden and guarded within it, behind its walls.

After some time, the Darkness whisked away, as if it had never been there at all.

* * *

A/N:So… I realize that some people are going to dislike me just because I didn't write something which they would have liked to see. I may as well explain some of those things now.

**Regarding the chapter title… self-explanatory. _(I'll come up with those clever and savvy chapters again soon enough, don't worry.)_**

Regarding the interaction with Ron… I think that in canon, Harry sort of latched onto Ron for three reasons: Ron was the first person Harry's own age who was nice to him; Ron was more knowledgeable about the wizarding world; and Harry sympathized with Ron in some ways. But then again, this is a different kind of Harry we're talking about in this story.

One point from canon which I've heard discussed a lot was how Harry was rude in turning down Malfoy's offer. Well, at least now I gave Harry an excuse to act the way he did. Admittedly, one thing came to mind as I was writing it: The pilot episode from _Superman: The Animated Series_ ("The Last Son of Krypton"), where Lex Luthor has the audacity to extend an offer of friendship to Superman, even after the hero saw what he did earlier in that episode. Also, as for the way Harry tricked Malfoy with the bad-tasting Every Flavor Beans… how was that?

I also decided to have Harry learn about the wizarding world's prejudices and that pureblood ideology sooner rather than later.

Melbourne and Claire are named after Dr. Daniel Jackson's parents from _Stargate: SG-1_. We see a glimpse of them – as well as what unfortunately happened to them – in the episode "The Gamekeeper" (Season 2). Also, one Leonard Woolley (1880-1960) was a British archeologist best known for his excavations at Ur in Mesopotamia, and is considered to have been one of the first "modern" archeologists.

"Oannes" is a name for a mythical being in ancient Mesopotamian myth, who is supposed to have given mankind wisdom by bringing writing, arts and sciences. _Stargate_ fans may also recognize Oannes from the _SG-1_ episode "Fire and Water" (Season 1), in which they are an alien race and one of them named Nem (or, as I like to call him, "that freaky fish-man") abducts Daniel Jackson to get some information. (Please note that, technically, the Oannes belonged to the ancient Mesopotamians, and not whoever owns _Stargate_ I really know next-to-nothing about the Oannes from myth, and that part in the previous chapter where Oannes shapeshifted from a different and more fish-like form into a more human form was my own idea.

**Regarding Harry's Sorting…** Quite a few of you must dislike me now for this, right? My reasoning is explained during both the Sorting scene itself and the Sorting-Hat-thinking-to-itself scene. While this version of Harry was still Sorted into Gryffindor, this is a different Harry from the one we know in canon, and so things went differently in how he got Sorted. I figured that if I couldn't change the outcome, then I could at least change the process. (And I managed to give the Sorting Hat a headache in the process, which I hope will count for something.) HOWEVER, let it not be said that I'm biased in favor of Gryffindor – far from it, because I'm either a Ravenclaw or Slytherin myself. Maybe I purposely made Harry a Gryffindor in this story because I didn't want accusations of him being a Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu?

As for who Harry's friends will be… Maybe it will be Ron and Hermione, maybe it won't. But either way, Harry's probably NOT going to get along with them for the next couple of chapters…

I also took the liberty of tweaking Harry's nightmare somewhat.

_You know what to do… review!_

–_**Quillian**_  
**(First posted: July 28, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)

* * *

_**SPECIAL NOTE (July 28, 2007)  
**_

In light of the release of the final book,_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, as well as what ultimately happened in it, I just want to take the time to say the following…

I fully respect J.K. Rowling's right to write her own stories as she saw fit and was entitled to do. However, I plan to do many things differently… especially in regards to some of the things she has written which the fans have not liked so much.

This AU story is planned to span all seven years of Harry's time at Hogwarts as things play out. In addition, things will get more and more different as time goes on. Years 1, 2, 3 and 4 will keep some things in common with their canon counterparts, but will be different enough. (I consider Voldemort's return at the end of Year 4 to be the real turning point of the series.) Year 5 will be even more different. Year 6 will be _very_ different from anything previous (admit it, how many of you liked it?). And Year 7… well, too soon to say, but I think you'll like what I've got in mind.

I know how much like canon this version of Year 1 is so far, and believe me, I plan to change that. I'm just trying to get a feel for it, testing the waters first (so to speak).

I am confidant that my originality will prevail in the end, and that you (the readers) will not be disappointed with the results.

Have you come down with a sickness induced by canon? Then Dr. Quillian has the cure!


	10. FIRST IMPRESSIONS

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** Some dialogue is taken from the book, particularly the first Potions lesson. Also, some hints are made towards Dumbledore's initial encounter with Tom Riddle and Dumbledore's own youth, as well as Snape's Patronus (as told in Books 6 and 7 respectively).

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Nine, "The Midnight Duel."**

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

**FIRST IMPRESSIONS**

The next morning, Harry was followed by whispers and murmurs wherever he went. Everyone was asking each other if they had seen him, seen his face, or even seen his scar. Harry just did his best to tune them out as he navigated through the castle's halls.

At breakfast, the Heads of Houses were going about, handing out schedules to their students. No sooner than Professor McGonagall had handed out the schedules to Harry and his classmates than did hundreds of owls come into the Great Hall.

It was a bit of a shock, but Harry quickly adjusted. As he looked around, he saw the other students getting letters from family and friends, and even some care packages in the mix. Hedwig had nothing for him this morning, but that was fine. He was still just glad to see her, and so with a strip of bacon and stroking of her feathers, she reciprocated in gratitude and flew off to the Owlery.

Over that first week alone, Harry got a feel for the kinds of classes which he would be taking for the rest of the year, as well as beyond that. By Friday, he had had Astronomy with observant Professor Sinistra, Herbology with patient Professor Sprout, History of Magic with boring Professor Binns, Charms with excitable Professor Flitwick, Transfiguration with strict Professor McGonagall, Defense Against the Dark Arts with nervous Professor Quirrell.

Harry also learned quickly about how to interact with (or, in some cases, avoid) some of Hogwarts' other denizens. The ghosts and even some of the people in the paintings were more than willing to provide directions to lost and confused students; however, Harry learned fast enough to avoid chaos-loving Peeves, as well as the grumpy caretaker Filch and his pesky cat Mrs. Norris.

Initially, Harry was afraid that if he did too well in his classes, people might catch on to how he knew a lot more than practically any other student his age, and then they would ask questions. But after seeing how brilliantly Hermione Granger did in just about all of their classes, he figured he would just do the same, doing the best he could do.

While he was still unsure as to how make friends, he still did his best to get to know his fellow first-year Gryffindors, or at least their names. Aside from Ron Weasley, there was round-faced, forgetful Neville Longbottom, a black boy named Dean Thomas (who showed exceptional artistic skills), and an Irish, sandy-haired boy named Seamus Finnigan. Aside from Hermione Granger, there were only two other first-year girls in Gryffindor: The dark-haired Parvati Patil and blonde Lavender Brown.

Harry also decided to get to know the students from other Houses; after all, just because he was a Gryffindor, that didn't mean he couldn't get along with those other students. So, once or twice, he would go to the library to do his homework there, meeting with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from his year. Even after the first time Harry met them, those other students were so taken by him that they wondered why he hadn't been Sorted into their respective Houses, since he could be so hard-working and cooperative (like a Hufflepuff) and brilliant and wise (like a Ravenclaw).

But as for the Slytherins… Harry wasn't quite sure what to do about them. It seemed like all the Slytherins in his year had ties to Voldemort and his minions, or were sympathetic to that same cause. The Slytherins in his year alone didn't seem like the kind whom Harry would simply introduce himself to and try to make friends with. Over time, Harry would make his observations and conclusions about them. As someone whom Harry wanted to avoid, Draco Malfoy was a given, as were his friends and bodyguards, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Another boy named Theodore Nott also had a father who was a Death Eater. Blaise Zabini was something of a wild card, but he would have to look into that later. Girls like Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis appeared to simply support the boys in the matters of their pureblood beliefs (although, he also noticed, Parkinson and Bulstrode were the most vocal in their yes-saying support, while Greengrass and Davis preferred to just let the other two girls do it). So, in the end, Harry decided that if any Slytherins were to come to him, claiming that they did not follow these same beliefs, then Harry would work from there.

Harry figured he would get to know the older students, especially those in Gryffindor, later on when he had more time. But for now, his first priority was homework.

He had observed the homework habits of some of his fellow Gryffindors. For example, Hermione enjoyed her own homework, rushing right through it with ease; if she ever got any answers wrong and had to correct them, then she didn't show it. Ron, on the other hand, was the kind to leave his homework off to the last possible minute whenever he felt like it. Harry humbly considered himself to be in a happy medium between the two extremes of devotion and laziness when it came to one's homework.

But whenever he had some free time, Harry would simply find some place to be by himself. He knew he had an opportunity to make friends, an opportunity which couldn't be spoiled by the Dorsey's; but for some reason, he held back, unsure of what he should do. In some ways, his new school life was an opposite of those in primary school; before, no one could see him as just another ordinary boy because he was shunned and marked as a target by Dudley, but now, everyone was in awe of him because there was something special about him, one which made him different, even by their standards.

And quite frankly, Harry wasn't sure which bothered him more.

* * *

The being who had called himself "Oannes" was hard at work. 

He had been told by Headmaster Dumbledore himself, as a token gesture of trust, about how the castle was currently playing host to another special object being guarded there. Some of the teachers had contributed to its defense by setting up certain traps in the path to it.

However, it when it came to the defense of _this_ particular object, the one which he was responsible for, Oannes wanted to be the one to set up the defenses for it. He was very thankful to whatever higher powers there may have been that the humans known as Melbourne and Claire Woolley were able to read the ancient cuneiform writing all over the clay box and decipher the long-dead language.

Like the other object, this particular object had certain properties over the powers of life and death, which naturally made it a very desired and coveted target. It was known, at least to anyone who had read one of the oldest tales of heroes in times long gone.

While the other object – the Philosopher's Stone, if he recalled correctly – was hidden somewhere safely in the bowls of the castle itself, Oannes found out that whatever space was left in the castle might not have been enough for what he had in mind.

However, he could at least have the _opportunity_ to go to the object's hiding place hidden somewhere within the castle itself.

According to Dumbledore, the third floor corridor was off-limits to students. Just as a gesture of trust, Dumbledore showed him exactly why it was off-limits, especially with that big beast over the trapdoor.

_There may still be room for what I have in mind in that third-floor corridor,_ Oannes thought to himself.

Currently, he was living in an underwater house at the bottom of the lake, dwelling among the native merfolk. Even now, more than before, he was very far from his native waters in the Persian Gulf (his small abode in the Mediterranean Sea was more like an "outpost" of sorts where he could conduct research). However, he still managed to keep in contact with the other beings he knew, who belonged to various other aquatic species. Through these other friends of his, Oannes managed to acquire a few new interesting creatures…

* * *

On Friday morning, Harry got three messages in the mail. 

The first was from Hagrid, asking Harry if he would like to visit the caretaker in his hut, since he had Friday afternoons off.

The second was from the Headmaster himself.

_Mister Potter,_

_I would like to meet you in my office and discuss something with you later this afternoon after your classes, preferably before dinner. Do not worry, for you are not in trouble of any kind._

_Sincerely,  
Headmaster Dumbledore_

The third was from Pim.

_Harry,_

_I realize you must be busy lately, especially during this first week of school. In which case, I hope you are keeping busy and learning something, while enjoying yourself at the same time._

_So, how was your first week at school? I am most curious._

_Your ever-caring guardian,  
Pim_

Harry first responded to Hagrid's and Dumbledore's messages.

To Hagrid he wrote:

_Hagrid,_

_Thanks for inviting me, I'll be there later today.  
-Harry_

To Dumbledore he wrote:

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_I'll be in your office later today as you requested._

_Sincerely,  
Harry Potter_

"Hedwig, please drop these off," Harry said, smiling. "I'll give you a letter to deliver to Pim once I write it later."

Hedwig hooted dutifully and flew across the Great Hall to deliver the respective responses to the headmaster and gamekeeper. Once that was done, Hedwig flew by Harry one last time, and so he tossed up a strip of bacon which she deftly caught in mid-air with her beak and carried away with her to the Owlery.

A few moments later, Harry heard a small groan from Ron. "What is it?" Harry asked, turning to face him.

"Double Potions today," Ron lamented, "with the Slytherins."

"That's bad, isn't it?" Harry asked, just for clarification.

"Very bad," Ron sighed.

"I'm also wary of Snape," Harry said. "Earlier this week when I just happened to pass him in the hall, he gave me this dirty look… as if I shouldn't be here."

Ron shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm not sure how that man thinks, and even then, I'm not sure I want to know."

So, steeling themselves for the worst, the first-year Gryffindors went into the dungeons, with its corridors colder than the rest of the castle.

The first-year Slytherins were already there, and barely a few moments later, Snape approached them from another corridor, with his black robes billowing behind him.

After unlocking the door, he immediately said, "Well, enter… or must I invite you all in?"

They all took seats, ending up in pairs – Harry and Ron just happened to sit down together – and waited for whatever would happen next. To Harry, this place was creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

As Snape was going down the roll call, he paused for a moment when he reached Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

The Slytherins all smirked to themselves, and Malfoy even chuckled a little, and Snape made no attempt to stop it. Harry kept his face neutral, but he narrowed his eyes just a little.

Once Snape was done with the roll call, he made a small speech about potions, and Harry silently noted that Snape was the kind of teacher who could keep a class quiet with little effort (probably through fear and intimidation).

Snape then have the class a moment or so to digest his words, and then got straight down to business.

"Potter!" he suddenly shouted, making the rest of the class jump. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air, which Snape ignored.

Harry thought for a minute, and finally came up with an answer. "The Draught of Living Death, sir."

Snape didn't show any kind of reaction. And then he asked another question.

"Where would I look if I sought to find a bezoar?"

This one took Harry a few extra seconds before he remembered it from his Potions textbooks. "In the stomach of a goat, sir."

Snape actually frowned a little. "So, I see the great Harry Potter had the common sense to open a book before coming to class after all."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. Wouldn't another professor be overjoyed that Harry could recall these things off the top of his head?

Finally, Snape had one more question, just to see if he could finally throw the boy for a loop.

"One more question, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

It took Harry almost a minute to figure this one out, and Snape was just about ready to say something else and move on when Harry finally realized that it was a trick question. "They are the same thing, and are also known as aconite."

Snape did his best to keep his eyes from widening, even a little. Did a non-Slytherin just answer not just one but all of his three start-of-term questions correctly for the first time in the decade which he had been teaching here?

Finally, the Potions Master spoke again. "Please put your hand down, Miss Granger. This is not a request." As Hermione lowered her hand, both looking and feeling embarrassed, Snape turned back to Harry and said, "No one likes a show-off, Potter."

While the rest of the Gryffindors stared at Snape (Harry kept his neutral face on), the Potions professor smirked and then turned to face his own Slytherins.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said smoothly, addressing the blond boy. With that, Snape proceeded to ask Malfoy a few other questions, ones which were so daunting that Harry didn't know them, and was sure weren't in his potions textbook. This was obviously very advanced Potions material which Malfoy seemed to understand (and maybe Hermione as well, since she had her hand raised once again).

"What happens when you add powdered silver to werewolf hair?"

"The werewolf hair decays and leaves a fine powder, sir," Malfoy said confidently.

"Good," Snape nodded. "What would you get if you added sunflower seeds to vampire blood?"

"The vampire blood would congeal and harden around the sunflower seeds, which would also incidentally make it proof against sunlight."

"Excellent. And what would happen if a fully-grown Chinese Chomping Cabbage was fed a meter of bamboo?"

Malfoy got the first two questions right, but the third question he had trouble with. After he admitted that he didn't know the answer, Professor Snape asked aloud, "Does anyone else have the answer?"

No one's hand went up except for Hermione's. "Anyone?" Snape reiterated, looking around but acting as if Hermione didn't have her hand raised. Finally, he said, "Well, since no one knows, the answer is –"

But Hermione suddenly blurted out, "It's a trick question, sir; nothing would happen because the Chinese Chomping Cabbage doesn't eat bamboo."

Snape glared at her, making her finally put her hand down, and even cower in her seat.

"I don't recall asking you for the answer, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly. "Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting me, Granger."

"But it was the right –" she tried to say.

"Do you want to make it more?" Snape countered. Hermione instantly fell silent.

"As for you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said with a small smile which none of the Gryffindors found comforting. "Ten points apiece for each question… so twenty points to Slytherin."

Now the Gryffindors were all gaping. Malfoy smirked, especially in Harry's general direction.

Things didn't exactly improve for the Gryffindors as the lesson went on, especially after Snape put them all into pairs and set them to the task of brewing a simple potion to cure boils. As they went about preparing the ingredients for the potion, he went around criticizing everyone except the Slytherins, thus proving his bias to all present. Personally, Harry thought he was probably one of the few who were doing the best, even under the pressure. Just as Snape was praising Malfoy and the others for doing the simplest things in some so-called "perfect way" (such as stewing horned slugs), Neville somehow managed to melt the cauldron which he and Seamus were using. Fortunately, Snape managed to stop most of the burning, ruined potion before it could spread all over the class and burn things and even other students, but not before Neville managed to get some of it on his arm. After Snape had Seamus take Neville to the hospital wing, he suddenly rounded on Harry, who was brewing his own ideal potion which probably rivaled Mafloy's.

"You there, Potter," he snapped. "Why didn't you tell Longbottom not to add those porcupine quills? Trying to make yourself look better, Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor!"

For all his incredible patience, Harry had finally had enough, and he was just about to say something to Snape when Ron subtly nudged him and whispered in his ear, "Don't do it, trust me."

While Snape was at the back of the room, belittling some other Gryffindors, Malfoy laughed softly and whispered to him from across the aisle. "You Gryffindors must really be unintelligent, Potter."

With a quick glance to make sure that Snape couldn't see or hear them, Harry smirked and calmly whispered back, "Yes, Malfoy, you're right… you're so smart that a Muggle-born Gryffindor had to correctly answer the question which you couldn't."

However, what Harry didn't realize was that at that particular moment, Malfoy had been adding one last ingredient to his own potion, but Potter's unexpected comeback took him by surprise. He never would have expected Potter to respond with a witty comment like that.

Whatever Malfoy was adding to the potion in his cauldron, he dropped the entire thing in; for the next few moments, it bubbled loudly and ominously. Finally, it exploded.

However, Malfoy was smart to figure out what was going to happen, because he quickly took out a lid and slammed it on top of the cauldron, and with all of his might (along with some help from Crabbe and Goyle), he stopped the cauldron from exploding, although he had to open it just a crack to allow the steam and some of the pressure to escape.

Of course, Snape was immediately drawn to the situation at hand, and with a spell which Harry had never heard before, he magically stopped the potion from trying to erupt from Malfoy's cauldron. However, the damage was already done to the cauldron; even though Harry really didn't know anything about the kinds of damage which could be caused to cauldrons, it looked bad enough to him.

All activity in the room ceased, which was just as well, since everyone else was done with their own potions. Snape was obviously not in a good mood – or rather, to be more precise, he was in an even worse mood than usual. His eyes swept over the class with one look, and with one glance at the clock, he said that class was dismissed, they had to do this particular assignment for their homework, and that they could leave after they cleaned up their stations.

But just as they were leaving, Snape said coldly, "Potter, stay behind."

Everyone in the class looked at him – the Gryffindors with fear, the Slytherins with glee – but none of them wasted any time in leaving.

Once the two of them were alone in the room, Snape took a moment to glare at Harry in order to intimidate him, but the Gryffindor just looked back at him unfazed.

"So, Mr. Potter," Snape said, "you think you are too good for everyone else? That everyone else must look bad so that you must look good?"

"With all due respect, sir," Harry said carefully, "what are you talking about?"

"Amazing, Potter, you are so quick to astound everyone with your so-called intelligence, but right now, you decide to play dumb."

Harry just looked at him blankly.

"I am talking about your nature of showing off in class, making everyone else look foolish so that you can look great. Thought everyone would just bow to you because you spouted off a few facts, did you?"

Now Harry allowed himself to speak a little more defensively. "What, are you angry at me for answering the questions correctly?" he said as politely as possible. Inside, however, he was seething a little; what kind of twisted teacher got mad at his own students for doing well in class?

"No, Potter, it is more than that… I am also talking about how you let Mr. Longbottom ruin his own potion, thereby putting the entire class in danger," Snape sneered.

Now Harry just gaped at Snape incredulously. "Now wait just a moment," Harry said, feeling his patience beginning to wane. "Seamus was Neville's partner, he was the one working with Neville on their potion. So, unless I had eyes in the back of my head which would have let me know if something was going to happen…"

"Don't get smart with me, Potter," Snape cut him off, before Harry could finish pointing out the rightfully obvious. "And as for the incident with Malfoy's potion… well, I do not know what happened, but I am absolutely certain that you had something to do with it."

In that moment, much of Harry's patience evaporated, as well as his sense of honor, and finally, he began to lie a little if it meant defending himself. "With all due respect, sir, Malfoy wasn't paying attention to his own work when he dropped his ingredients in his own potion." _That and the fact he was too busy taunting us Gryffindors,_ he added in his head.

"Don't take that tone with me, Potter," Snape said in a tone of his own, one which was definitely worse than any tone which Harry had used so far. "I know your type. You are the kind who will do anything to make others look bad if it means making yourself look good. You do not even concern yourself if some innocent people get caught in the way of your escapades designed to make yourself shine. You are no better than –"

However, at that point, Snape suddenly stopped himself from saying anything after that.

"You are dismissed, Potter," he said at last. "Leave."

Now that completely surprised Harry. First Snape was ranting at Harry, and now he just wanted him out, just like that?

"No better than who, sir?" Harry asked, morbidly curious.

"Never you mind, Potter," he snapped. "Now leave. Get out of this classroom!"

"Funny, you were the one who wanted me to stay behind in the first place…" Harry muttered under his breath.

"Out!" Snape yelled, and Harry bolted like a rabbit, fleeing from the room. The Potions Master was left alone in his classroom, beginning to fume and now too angry to take points for whatever Potter had muttered under his breath.

_Arrogant brat is just like his father,_ Snape thought to himself, finishing in his mind what he had been saying out loud. He was right, after all. How could he be wrong, especially when it came to Potters?

* * *

On his way to lunch, Harry was silently fuming inside. 

It was as though Fate had been aware of his departure from the so-called "care" of the Dursleys, and so it was decided that now Harry must endure being the presence of some new, different people instead. Only now, instead of Dudley Dursley, Harry had to put up with a different spoiled, pompous boy named Draco Malfoy.

And if Malfoy was like Dudley, could the analogy possibly extend to Profesor Snape as being like Uncle Vernon? Completely devoted to watching over said spoiled, pompous boy, and completely oblivious towards said boy's faults and problems while constantly attacking someone else (usually Harry) for all other problems, even the problems which didn't even exist.

_Funny how the universe balances itself out,_ Harry thought to himself, recalling some philosophical discussions with Pim, _and not always in your favor._

Of course, Harry knew that he couldn't just leave some place because he didn't get along with some people there. No matter where people went in life, they would run into some people whom they couldn't get along with. It was just the way things were.

Before he even realized it, he was standing at the threshold of the Great Hall, where people were just beginning to enter for lunch. Wanting to be alone, or at least for the moment, Harry sat somewhere at the middle of the Gryffindor table, a fair distance from any of the other few Gryffindors who were already sitting there.

He stared down at his empty plate for a few moments, thinking to himself, when he suddenly noticed someone else sit down across from him.

"Neville?"

"Harry," the round-faced boy responded. He still looked a little upset, and, to Harry's dismay, looked to be in awe of talking to the great Harry Potter. "So… what happened in Potions after I had to go to the hospital wing?"

"Snape basically blamed me for your mistake and took ten points off of Gryffindor for it," Harry said in a flat voice.

Neville stared at him in disbelief. "That's outrageous!" he exclaimed.

"I guess not to him," Harry said with a little bitterness in his voice. Deciding to try and change the subject, he asked Neville, "How's your arm?"

"It's feeling better," Neville said, flexing it. "Madame Pomfrey fixed it up within minutes." Then as an afterthought, he added, "I'm not looking forward to next week's Potions lesson… or any Potions lesson, for that matter, as long as Professor Snape is teaching it." Here, he visibly gulped, nervous at the very thought of Snape.

"You know," Harry said, speaking so suddenly that he surprised even himself, "I probably would have done just fine if it wasn't for Snape and how he does things. I know I'm just a student, but his teaching style – if it can be called that – leaves much to be desired."

"But who else would teach us?" Neville pointed out.

"I suppose we could try learning on our own," Harry said. "You know, outside of class. Maybe with a teacher's permission, we could try stuff on our own, without Snape."

They would have discussed the idea further, but then the rest of their fellow Gryffindors came in, having gone up to their dorms to do whatever they needed to do before coming down to lunch. "Let's discuss this later," Harry whispered to Neville, who nodded in agreement before both of them ceased discussion about their idea of learning Potions without Snape.

"So, Harry, what happened with Snape?" Ron asked, piling food onto his own plate.

"I think he just wanted to yell at me a bit more," Harry said flatly. "The less said about it, the better."

"I don't like talking about Snape either," Ron said with a hint of disgust in his voice. "At least we have the rest of the day off. Besides… food!" And with that, he eagerly dug in.

"Actually, Hagrid invited me for tea in his cabin," Harry said optimistically. "It'll be good to get a chance to talk to him again."

"Sounds like fun," Ron said through a mouthful of chicken. "I heard about him from my brothers… think he'd mind me tagging along?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't see why not." But then he remembered something else. "But first, I need to see Dumbledore in his office after lunch."

"Dumbledore?" Ron gasped out after guzzling a lot of pumpkin juice. "Why would he want to see you?"

Harry shrugged again. "I dunno… he just said he wanted to meet me."

For the briefest of seconds, Ron looked a little suspicious, but the next moment, he just shrugged it off, and went back to devouring his food.

* * *

After lunch, Harry went towards Dumbledore's office, wondering what the Headmaster wanted to talk to him about. 

Soon enough, the Headmaster came into view, standing next to an ugly-looking stone gargoyle. "Ah, Mr. Potter, so good to see you," Professor Dumbledore said, with a small smile and some twinkling in his blue eyes. "Come."

Turning to the gargoyle, he declared "Gummy Bears!" and the next moment, the gargoyle jumped aside and the door behind it opened. With that, Dumbledore led Harry up a spiral staircase which rotated on its own, making Harry think of an escalator (which, by definition, it probably was). They entered through a door with a brass griffin knocker on it, and lo and behold, they were in the Headmaster's office.

It was a circular room, with portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their frames. There were also some strange silvery, spindly devices (whose functions Harry could only guess at) on a few tables scattered all over the room. However, there was also a bird's perch, which was vacant at the moment. Perhaps Dumbledore had his own personal owl which was currently out on an errand?

Harry was just looking at some object on another table… or rather, _two_ objects. They looked like two halves to a block, and on both sides of them, there was a distinct kind of wedge-shaped writing. Back when he was in primary school, when he was hiding in the school's library, he would sometimes flip through books about ancient civilizations, and he was reading about those civilizations which once existed in the Near East, he frequently saw images of clay tablets with that same writing on them.

_Cuneiform,_ Harry thought to himself. Even though he really knew next-to-nothing about those civilizations, and even though he certainly could not read any of their languages, he could still see the writing and know it was cuneiform.

Dumbledore gently cleared his throat, bringing Harry back to reality. Turning around, Harry said, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I was just looking at this."

"So was I, actually," Dumbledore said, smiling a little. "I had it out because I was looking at it earlier. An old student of mine sent it to me after it was found, so for the moment, I am merely keeping it safe. I think now might be a good time to put it away for the time being."

Dumbledore used his wand to levitate the two near-identical pieces, and then wrap them in a thick, dark cloth. Once that was done, the bundle flew into one of his cabinets, which promptly closed after it was stored inside.

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said kindly. "May I offer you a lemon drop?"

"No thank you, sir," Harry said politely.

"Very well," Dumbledore said in return, getting down to business. "First of all, I just wanted to see how you were adjusting to this school."

Harry thought about it. "Well…" he began. "I think I like it, although it's only been a week."

"You're right, of course. However, there is something which I must talk to you about, concerning your safety."

Harry noticed that the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was gone, and so now he paid close attention.

"I need to know where you have been for the past year or so, Harry."

Harry felt something like a weight drop in the pit of his stomach; in fact, he didn't even notice that the headmaster had called him "Harry" instead of addressing him as "Mr. Potter."

"I know you fled from the Dursleys' residence after an incident with them which spiraled out of control. I also know that you somehow ran into them again a few months ago at a zoo."

Dumbledore decided not to bring up the damage which Harry caused through accidental magic, and rather pretend, at least for now, that he was ignorant of it.

"I am not angry at you, Harry, and nor are you in trouble," Dumbledore reassured him in a calming manner. "But for your own safety, I need to know where you were and who was taking care of you – that is, of course, assuming that you were not surviving on your own somehow."

Harry was thinking fast, and doing his best to remain calm and appear innocent in front of Dumbledore. He also recalled from his own personal experience how lies seemed to be more believable if you mixed in some truth with them.

"Well," he began, "someone found me. He took me in and raised me for the past year or so, ever since I… ran away from the Dursleys. That's just about it, really."

"What does he do for a living?" Dumbledore politely inquired.

"Oh, he's a merchant," Harry said. "He travels around a lot. He's been around for quite a while, traveling to lots of places, mostly around the Mediterranean Sea. He usually rents a place whenever he's in Britain."

Well, the parts about being around for "quite a while," traveling around a lot and mostly around the Mediterranean were true, and "saying that he usually rents a place whenever he's in Britain" was quite an understatement and something of a half-truth. However, they were also very vague, and Harry wanted to keep it that way, unless he was asked for any further details.

"I see," Dumbledore said calmly, apparently not detecting any kind of lie. "Is there any chance I could talk to him?"

"I'm sure you could," Harry answered, "but I don't know how soon that will be until I can speak to him again. Right after he dropped me off at King's Cross yesterday, he left for a string of business trips. He probably won't be back for months."

"Surely he doesn't leave you all alone?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, of course not, if I can't go with him, then I stay with this friend of his, and she looks after me," Harry said easily, thinking of Galatea.

Dumbledore had a feeling that Harry was hiding something, and was about to press further when something occurred to him.

_Oh, come on, that's enough already!_ said a voice in his head, chastising him. _That poor boy has already been through enough with the Dursleys, which, let us not forget, you helped set up! Why don't you give him the benefit of the doubt just this once?_

Whatever Dumbledore was going to say next in his inquires about Harry, he stopped himself from saying it. "I do not mean to pry, Harry," he said calmly. "As the Headmaster of this school, it is one of my duties to make sure that my students are safe."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

"I'm sure you didn't want to talk about the Dursleys again," Dumbledore said, "but I also needed to know because of the fact that if wizards and witches knew the truth about your home life, it would be chaos for both worlds, and a major step backwards in wizard-Muggle relations. I assume that you know already about some of this world's prejudices?" After Harry nodded affirmatively, Dumbledore continued, "If those people who still cling onto those prejudicial views got wind of your… _ordeal_, they most likely would not hesitate to play on it, mostly to suit and further their own agendas."

Harry nodded with complete understanding. Now that he recalled it, Hagrid did mention something, back when they first met, about people hearing about Harry and his Muggle relatives, but then dismissing it as false. But then something occurred to him… "How do you know about my life with the Dursleys, sir?" he asked carefully.

_Alright,_ Dumbledore thought to himself as he realized that he may have said something wrong, _time to really lie._ "Most other wizards around here do not read Muggle publications, but as soon as I saw a report about a Dursley family and one Harry Potter, I quickly took it upon myself to investigate."

Harry nodded again. "I understand, sir." Then, after a moment, he asked, "Do you have any idea how I ended up with them?"

Dumbledore carefully chose his words in his head before saying them out loud. "I believe that you were placed with them, because they were your next of kin," he said at last, deciding to say "_You were placed with them"_ rather than "_I placed you with them."_

"I have to wonder exactly who decided to place me with them," Harry said, sounding just a little bitter.

Dumbledore nearly winced, but he managed to hide it. In retrospect, he may have deserved that and had it coming.

"Well, that is all," Dumbledore said, wrapping it up. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Potter. You may leave."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said as he got up to leave. He was at the door when the headmaster suddenly spoke again.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, but then hesitated for a moment.

Dumbledore wanted so badly to apologize to Harry, he really did, but if he were to apologize to Harry, he would have to explain exactly why he was apologizing, and then the boy would probably never trust him again, which couldn't happen. So, at least for now, he had to lie to Harry, to an extent.

Finally figuring out what to say, he said to Harry, smiling, "I am glad that you are alright."

Harry stood at the door for a moment, and finally said, smiling back at the headmaster, "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Good-bye."

After Harry left, he sat there and began thinking to himself, his smiling face now replaced by a thoughtful one. True, he had gotten some answers out of Harry… but now his answered questions had been replaced by more unanswered questions. Well, that would change in due time.

For some reason, Harry reminded Dumbledore of another student he once had, decades ago. So different and yet just a little similar at the same time…

Subconsciously, Dumbledore began to compare young Harry to another young wizard whom he met decades ago, and compared his own memories of Tom Riddle with those of Harry Potter, plus Hagrid's own reflections of the latter…

_Tom Riddle, arrogantly demanding explanations and even demonstrations about magic from Dumbledore…_

_Harry Potter, humbly asking for answers and the truth about his past from Hagrid…_

_Riddle, arrogantly relishing about how he knew he was special all along…_

_Harry, humbly accepting the truth about how he was special all along…_

_Riddle, gloating about the aggressive things he could do to people if they annoyed him…_

_Harry, describing the passive tactics he could use to avoid people who might want to hurt him…_

_Riddle, saying how his mother shouldn't have died if she was magical, and therefore powerful and maybe even invincible…_

_Harry, accepting that even with their magical powers, his parents were not all-powerful and invincible…_

_Riddle, self-sufficient that he was, demanding that he be allowed to go to Diagon Alley by himself, even though he had never been there before…_

_Harry, self-sufficient that he was, letting Hagrid escort him to Diagon Alley, since he had never been there before…_

_Riddle, trying on the Sorting Hat, and sitting there for a few moments before he was declared a "SLYTHERIN!"…_

_Harry, trying on the Sorting Hat, and sitting there for several minutes before he was declared a "GRYFFINDOR!"…_

_Riddle, sitting at the Slytherin table, calmly observing his new House-mates interact, but not making an effort to get to know them…_

_Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, letting his new House-mates interact before making an effort to get to know them…_

_Riddle, growing up to be the evil and feared Lord Voldemort…_

_Harry… what would happen to him?_

That was the question which had been haunting Dumbledore ever since Harry was born.

_What will happen,_ Dumbledore thought firmly to himself, _is that I will make sure that Harry Potter vanquishes Voldemort, and does not become a tyrannical monster like him._

But maybe, just maybe, he was giving Harry too little credit. Unbidden, as much as he tried to block out those memories from so very long ago, memories of his own youth came back to Dumbledore, haunting him, plaguing him…

Combine that with seeing Harry look accepting of Dumbledore's not-entirely-true explanation before he left…

Silently moaning, he placed his head in his hands, thinking to himself, _I'm a bad person, I'm a bad person, I'm a bad person…_

* * *

After he left Dumbledore's office, Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower to get Ron, and so the both of them went down to Hagrid's hut. 

"So, what did Dumbledore want to speak to you about?" Ron asked, curious.

"Something private," Harry said casually, but Ron got the point and dropped the subject.

From there, both of them went from Gryffindor Tower to the school's grounds, down to where Hagrid's small wooden house stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, adorned with various things such as a crossbow and a pair of galoshes. For the first week of September, the weather was still beautiful, as though summer was trying to hold out for just a little longer until autumn finally set in.

However, they were almost there when an enormous black boarhound came rushing up to them, barking loudly. As quick as he tried to be, the big dog actually managed to tackle Harry to the ground. For a very brief instant, he had an unpleasant flashback of Ripper, but unlike that little brute of Aunt Marge's, this dog was quite friendly.

"Fang!" a familiar voice shouted towards them; it was Hagrid, striding up to them with his massive steps. "Hey Harry! That's just me dog, Fang."

By now, Fang was circling Harry and Ron eagerly, looking far friendlier than Ripper ever did, or indeed, any other dog which Harry had ever encountered or met.

"Come along now, my house's jus' over there!" Hagrid shouted, and after Fang retook his place at his master's side, they all went to the house together and entered.

Harry took in the sight of Hagrid's one-room home, with its hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, its massive bed in the corner covered with a patchwork quilt, and a copper kettle boiling on the open fire. After having spent most of his life so far with the cupboard under the stairs as his bedroom in the Dursley household, he didn't know if only one room could be considered cozy or comfortable enough for anyone.

"It's a really nice place, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Why thank you," Hagrid said, beaming. "Make yerselves at home. I'll have tea and rock cakes ready in no time."

They kindly accepted the rock cakes – shapeless lumps with raisins which almost broke their teeth – but at least the tea was fine. After Harry introduced Ron (who was scratching Fang behind the ears), Hagrid made some comment about "another Weasley" and "how he spent half his life chasing away Ron's twin brothers from the forest."

"So you got any other siblings who'll be comin' in the future?" Hagrid asked Ron.

"Well, after me, there's only my sister Ginny… she'll be starting here next year."

"Ah, I'm sure she can't wait. So, how's yer brother Charlie? He always was good with animals."

"He's having fun at the dragon reserve in Romania, nearly getting burned by dragons every day…"

"Good ter hear. I know he'll be fine, yer brother."

As Hagrid and Ron talked more about the latter's family, Harry saw and read a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_ whose headline caught his attention: **GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**.

The ongoing conversation seemed to fade into the background as Harry focused on the article, reading it. Certain things in particular stuck out in his mind: _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July… The vault that was searched had been emptied the same day…_

Something clicked in Harry's mind.

"Hey Harry, you alright?" Hagrid asked.

Harry jumped in surprise, as if the ambient noise and the sound of the conversation had been suddenly turned back on.

"Huh? Oh, sorry… was just reading this," Harry said, putting the clipping aside.

"Yeah, I know… scary, isn't it?"

"Hagrid," he said, remembering that small, grubby package, "weren't we at Gringotts the day this happened?"

Hagrid didn't exactly look him in the eyes. "So we were," he said gruffly. "Coulda been any vault there. There're always things goin' in an' outta Gringotts. They don't say which vault it was, do they?"

Harry looked at the clipping again, and finally said, "No, it doesn't." But he caught the message which Hagrid was trying to silently send him: _Let's not talk about it now._

"How were yer classes?" Hagrid was now asking them.

Harry casually answered about how his classes were okay, his professors were nice enough… at least until he got up to the part about Potions with Snape.

"The subject itself wasn't so bad – I really have no problem with Potions – but not the way he teaches it, or how he acts towards us," Harry said. "Actually, the way he acted towards me in class… you should have seen him, Hagrid. He acted like I tried to hurt him once or something."

Hagrid couldn't quite meet Harry's eyes about this, either. "Harry," he said slowly, "I'll admit that Professor Snape isn't the nicest man around, but I wouldn't worry abou' it. He's still the best Potions Master around – and Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't allow someone dangerous ter teach here."

Harry had a feeling that Hagrid was hiding something from him regarding Snape, but didn't press the issue. (On the side, Ron made a facial expression to express his disbelief that Dumbledore would allow someone like Snape to be at Hogwarts at all.)

Soon enough, Harry and Ron had to leave to return to the castle for dinner, but even after the topics of the Gringotts break-in and Snape, the three of them still managed to have a nice conversation about various other things.

But on the way back to the castle with Ron, Harry privately thought to himself about Hagrid's unwillingness to talk about those couple of different subjects. The questions kept circling around in his head. Exactly why did Snape hate him so much? Did the break-in at Gringotts have anything to do with that small, grubby package? And now that he thought about it… wasn't there a second item which Hagrid had retrieved?

* * *

After he was done with the last class for the day – and indeed, the week – Professor Snape, the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, smoothly returned to his office. 

Among the dark yet comfortable furnishings, Snape sat back and his chair and poured some water from a nearby pitcher into a cup before drinking it (he wasn't in the mood for a stiff drink at the moment).

_Harry Potter…_

Just thinking about the boy made Snape feel some kind of inner, phantom pain, even if no part of his body was physically hurt just by thinking about him. From the moment that Potter first entered the Great Hall, Snape just _knew_ that the boy would be trouble, as an arrogant, attention-seeking young celebrity. Snape had heard rumors over the summer that the young Potter was being abused and neglected by his Muggle relatives, but with just one look at how healthy he was, Snape just knew it couldn't be true.

No, that Potter boy was a menace, just like his good-for-nothing father, and when he made a mistake, Snape would be there to punish him for it. He would learn soon enough that he couldn't get away with the same antics as his father.

_James' face._

And yet… at the same time… even with his father's looks and that horrid scar on his forehead… there were those emerald green eyes of his.

_Lily's eyes._

Those eyes were probably the only saving grace to young Potter's appearance, in Snape's own opinion. Just some kind of reminder that there still might be some kind of hope yet for the young Gryffindor.

Sighing to himself, Snape thought back to some of his earliest, happiest memories (most of them involving a certain girl with auburn hair and identical green eyes), lazily waved his wand, and said, "_Expecto Patronum."_

A silver doe sprang from Snape's wand, and began to lightly prance around the office before coming back to its caster and standing before him.

"I know I swore to protect him," Snape said, aloud and yet to himself, "and I intend to do that… and I just hope that there's more of you in him than just his eyes, Lily. I don't think I would be able to handle it if he turned out like his father. I hope he doesn't… for his sake."

As the silver doe faded away, Snape sat in his office, surrounding himself with only his thoughts.

* * *

Quirrell was in his office, filled with so many different artifacts, both Light and Dark. 

He sneered to himself. Light and Dark, Good and Evil… such useless, incorrect ways of labeling what they favored and what they feared.

"Quirrell," a voice hissed from behind his head, through the wrappings of his turban.

"Yes, Master," he said humbly, and without that ridiculous stuttering.

"I have lain dormant for this first week of school," his master. "Fortunately, this act seems to be fooling Dumbledore." (Here, the name of the school's renowned Headmaster was spat out, almost like a foul curse.) "Any news on how to get to the Philosopher's Stone?"

"None yet, my Lord. I still cannot figure out how to make my way past Hagrid's beast, alive and unharmed. Those ancient Greek wizards knew what they were doing when they bred and enchanted Cerberus dogs to guard whatever needed to be guarded."

Of course, both Quirrell and his master knew the Greek myth about the monster named Cerberus, the giant, three-headed dog which guarded the entrance to the Underworld.

"But please, rest assured, Master, I will find the way past that infernal beast soon enough…"

"Hopefully, 'soon enough' will be _very_ soon," his master said, softly yet dangerously and pointedly.

Quirrell gulped, showing true nervousness this time. "Yes, my Master… of course."

"Good," his master said quietly. "That is all for now. Carry on, my humble servant."

* * *

After dinner, Harry remembered to write to Pim. 

Making sure that no one else was around to see him, Harry took out a pencil and a sheet of paper, and began to write.

_Pim,_

_Well, I've finished my first week at Hogwarts, and so I'll write to you about it now._

_I think my year might be one of the smaller classes in the school. I'm only one of eight new Gryffindors (five boys, three girls). Maybe the war against Voldemort had something to do with it._

_Our Head of House is Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, who is also the Deputy Headmistress. She's strict, and I've heard other Gryffindors say they wished that she "favored" us, but then again, I've read and heard about other people in the past who favor their own but are tougher on them than the others._

_Professor Flitwick is a little guy who teaches Charms, and he seems nice enough._

_Professor Sprout teaches Herbology, and she seems nice enough._

_Professor Binns is our only professor who's a ghost, and he teaches History of Magic. One word: BORING. Droning on about a certain subject can't be the same as teaching it, right?_

_There's not much to say about Professor Sinistra, who teaches Astronomy._

_Quirrell, who I met in Diagon Alley on my birthday, teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. I think his class might be a bit of a joke. He now has this big purple turban (which smells funny, by the way), which he claims he got from an African prince for getting rid of some troublesome zombie, but when someone asked exactly how he did it, he quickly explained that we wouldn't understand or be able to deal with the more gory details._

_Just today, I met probably my least favorite professor, Snape, who teaches Potions. The man obviously knows his stuff, but his idea of teaching seems to be to give us directions and make us figure it out on our own, only to snarl at us whenever we do something wrong. Oh, and he's obviously in favor of the Slytherins. I think they could try and murder someone, and he'd find some way for them to get away with it. I could give you some examples of how he's so biased, but I don't want to subject you to my ranting unless you really want to know about it. The other thing about Snape is that he seems to hate me the most, more than any other typical Gryffindor, and I have no idea why. I didn't even know him until I first came to Hogwarts, so it's not as though I could have done anything to him._

_The school itself just seems too magnificent to describe. There's the Great Hall which shows the sky itself above, all the different staircases, all the different talking portraits…I could go into more detail if you wanted me to._

Harry was just about to finish writing the letter when he suddenly remembered something else, something which didn't make him feel comfortable..

_Pim, I just remembered something else! Just earlier, Headmaster Dumbledore called me to his office to talk about where I've been since I ran away from the Dursleys when I was nine years old. Well, I didn't exactly lie, but I only vaguely told the truth. I told him that you found me, and you're a merchant who has been around for a while and who travels all over the place, but mostly around the Mediterranean, and you rent out a place to live whenever you're in Britain. When he asked if he could meet you, I told him that you had already gone on a business trip and wouldn't be back for months. Now Dumbledore will want to meet you as soon as possible. I'm really sorry about this, but I didn't know what else to do! I couldn't stay silent and not answer his questions, because then he would have known that I was hiding something! Now what do I do?_

_Sincerely,  
Harry_

Harry quickly rolled up the piece of paper and sealed it as though it were parchment, and then went out to go to the Owlery and find Hedwig.

"Hey Harry," Ron said. "I'm about halfway done with my Potions homework, and I think I need a break. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to the Owlery to send a letter," Harry said casually.

"Mind if I tag along?" Ron asked.

"Sure."

Ron finished writing a sentence in his essay for the Potions homework, and as soon as he was done, he bounded over to Harry, glad to get away from that tedious work.

Several minutes later, they were at the Owlery, looking for Hedwig.

"Hedwig?" Harry called out as he was careful to step around the owl droppings and remains of meals. "Hedwig, are you here?" He was also looking at the multitudes of owls in the rafters as he called out, looking for her; he knew that only male snowy owls were pure white, while female snowy owls had their white feathers flecked with small black bars.

There was an affirmative hoot from overhead, and Hedwig came fluttering down from her perch, fully refreshed after sleeping for most of the day.

"Hello, Hedwig," he said happily as he stroked her feathers. "I need you to send this to Pim. Are you up for the journey?"

Hedwig hooted as if to say "_of course"_ and took the letter in her beak. "Good girl, Hedwig," he said appreciatively. "Have a safe flight." With that, he walked over to the window with her and watched her take off into the sunset.

"Lovely owl," Ron commented.

"Yeah, I know she is."

With that, both of them made to return to Gryffindor Tower. However, at one point, Harry heard an unpleasantly familiar voice…

"Quick, in here," he muttered, grabbing Ron by the shoulder and making them duck into a nearby alcove.

Hiding in the darkness, they could hear Malfoy drawling out loud as he passed by with his friends, Crabbe and Goyle.

"So, practically a day after the Sorting Ceremony, I get this letter from Father. Of course, he has better taste and sensibilities than to send me a Howler so everyone could hear it, so instead he sent me a handwritten letter. He basically yelled at me in the message about picking a fight with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived who saved us all from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Honestly, how could I have known that that particular trunk could have been his? According to him, I should make an effort to be nicer to Potter, treat him with some respect, even though he is the Boy-Who-Lived and a Gryffindor to boot… but just between you and me, I think it's more so that if I act nice to him, he might not see me as such a bad person after all… maybe I could even convince him to join our side…"

And as if on cue, Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

As the trio of Slytherins continued on their way to the Owlery, Harry and Ron made sure that they were gone, came out of their hiding place, and continued on their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"I don't know about you, but I can't stand that ponce Draco Malfoy," Ron began to rant. "Typical scheming Slytherin, always trying to figure out how to do bad things to other people, just so he can look good…"

Ron continued ranting like that for the rest of their walk back to Gryffindor Tower. By the time they made it back to the Fat Lady, Harry finally said, "Ron, could you please give it a rest with Malfoy? I'm really tired of hearing about him."

Ron looked at Harry as if snapping out of a funk, and with a small "sorry," they both entered.

As Ron was scanning the common room, on the look-out for Fred and George so he could avoid them if he had to, Harry added, "Besides, when you talk like that, you sound a lot like Malfoy himself."

"What was that?" Ron said distractedly, still looking around for his twin brothers.

"Oh, nothing, Ron…"

* * *

Pim was busy at work in his tower, looking for some way to solve his own personal energy crisis. Even now, the tower was functioning on absolutely minimal power, just enough to sustain himself and anything or anyone currently inhabiting it. So, for now, he himself was fine, Galatea was fine, the owls were fine, and everything else was fine. 

He just needed a new energy source… as well as a way to make the tower itself more energy-efficient.

It was probably a flaw, he decided, one which he had made when constructing the tower more than a thousand years ago. Well, it was time to fix that.

Pim had read about this new Muggle invention known as a "solar panel" and considered the possibility of placing solar panels on the top of the spire, to collect sunlight for energy. That was certainly worth a try. But he still needed something else…

He had read and learned about nuclear power, and somehow, that seemed like a good alternative. Pim certainly understood what was involved in making and running a nuclear reactor… but somehow, that seemed like quite a stretch.

Well, as long as he had a solution by next summer, when Harry would be staying there for another few months, that would be good in itself.

Pim then sensed something coming his way – an owl. It was Hedwig.

The snowy owl soared gracefully into the level of the tower which was now serving as an Owlery. Pim's avatar appeared there to greet her.

"Hello, Hedwig," he said warmly. "What news do you have for me?"

Galatea entered the room and accepted Harry's letter, since she could physically move it and open it.

As Hedwig joined the other owls, Pim and Galatea read the letter together. Pim nodded to himself as he silently read it, going through the descriptions of teachers and classes (although he grimaced a little at the sound of this Snape character)… but then he could feel Harry's panic as Harry described the meeting with his Headmaster.

"Well, this certainly makes things a little complicated," Pim said aloud, "but I suppose this was inevitable."

Still, Pim felt a little amused by the clever half-truths which Harry told, about Pim and what he had been doing. _A merchant, huh?_ Pim thought to himself. _Yes, actually, I did some freelance work as a merchant or courier over the centuries…_

It was also kind of funny, since Pim had been reading up on the age of exploration from five hundred years previous, when Christopher Columbus and other explorers sailed the oceans and discovered new worlds. In fact, just the previous night, Pim was reading up on how Dutch sailors managed to get Japan to open up to the rest of the world after centuries of isolation. (He also thought it was kind of funny that "Pim" should just happen to be a pet form of the name "William" in the Dutch language.)

Taking the time from his research on powering his tower to write out a response, he had Galatea retrieve an old Muggle typewriter which Pim had required, along with some paper, and began to type out a response.

_Harry,_

_Thank you for telling me about this. I think that, given the circumstances, you did the right thing in doing what you did. At least you were able to think on your feet, and that's good._

_Don't offer any more information unless you are asked for it. But if you need to supply a name just to satisfy their curiosity, just tell them that my name is William Verdediger. (It's Dutch, just in case you were wondering.)_

_I am working on creating this convincing new alias for me right now, and with any luck, it will be quite believable. Hopefully, if all goes well, I should be able to put in an appearance before Christmas._

_May you continue to do well in all your classes… and do not let that Potions master bring you down._

_Sincerely,  
Pim_

With that, Pim finished the letter and then allowed the ink to dry. Once it was dry, he sealed it, but then left it there on the table which the typewriter was currently sitting on. He then called to Hedwig, "Please, Hedwig, rest here for the night… you can deliver this to Harry in the morning."

Hedwig hooted back in confirmation.

Now, back to the tricky business of finding some way to magically power his tower… at the moment, he was stuck between solar power and nuclear power.

Well, maybe the occasional lightning strike might help…

* * *

A/N: So, we see how the canon conflicts with the original stuff… 

**Regarding the chapter title… self-explanatory.**

Okay, so Harry doesn't know that Dumbledore was responsible for him being placed with the Dursleys… _yet_. Trust me, when Harry finds out, it won't be pretty!

As for the strange but definitely human writing on the clay box… yeah, it was cuneiform, the writing system used by ancient Sumerians and other ancient Mesopotamian peoples as far back as 3000 B.C. It was also what Oannes was drawing on the sand to communicate with Dumbledore a couple of chapters back.

Regarding Snape… he has this debt to Lily to repay, concerning Harry, but at the same time, he's too wrapped up in his untrue beliefs that Harry is a near-copy of James, so he sort of sees it as his duty to "make sure" that Harry doesn't turn out like that. I tried to show him as being logical and yet delusional at the same time.

Regarding Pim's fake name… "Pim" just happens to be a Dutch pet form of the name "William" (thanks to**Laume** for pointing that out!), and _verdediger_ is the Dutch word for "protector" or "guardian" (thanks to **Kidduffet** for the translation!).

_You know what to do… review!_

–_**Quillian**_**  
(First posted: August 29, 2007)  
(Last edited: February 19, 2008)**


	11. FAMILIARITY AND CONTEMPT

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** This chapter covers events from the first flying lesson to Harry's midnight escapade, and how differently things play out than in canon should also be noted.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Ten, "Halloween."**

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN  
FAMILIARITY AND CONTEMPT**

Harry got Pim's letter on Saturday morning. As he read it and then reread it, he thought about Pim's words.

So, his guardian's name was "William Verdediger," a Dutch merchant who had been doing business for years. But Harry realized something else about specifics: What about other aspects of this "William Verdediger," such as physical appearance or age or any distinguishing characteristics. Harry would have to ask Pim about that in his next letter, especially before anyone else asked what his guardian looked like.

There was also another issue, about this web of lies which he now had to spin. He already told Ron that had grown up with Muggles… maybe that could be interpreted to mean that this "William Verdediger" was a Muggle, or that he was a wizard but they lived among Muggles? In the end, Harry concluded that he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

It was only now that Harry was beginning to grasp the magnitude of how he would have to lie about his past in order to protect himself and his life with Pim which he cherished so much. However, if it was the price which he had to pay for a better life with Pim than the life which he had to endure with the Dursleys, then he would gladly pay it. All things considered, it wasn't such a bad trade-off.

After he ate that morning, Harry was rummaging through his trunk, looking for something, when he found something else which he hadn't noticed before. It was a hardwood box, which opened up for him, revealing what looked like a tablet with a glossy surface in the main compartment and a silvery quill in a smaller compartment.

As he looked it over, he realized that maybe Pim merely forgot to tell him about this, whatever it was. He would be sure to mention it in his next letter to Pim.

In the meantime, it looked like a beautiful day outside, and so, grabbing a book to read (just in case), he went outside to enjoy the wonderful weather.

* * *

Later that evening, Pim was in his tower, working on something, when he received another letter from Hedwig. After giving her the customary thanks and Owl Treat, he read the letter. 

_Pim,_

_Thanks for telling me what your new name will be. However, it would also help if I had some idea as to what you would look like in this disguise._

_I'm also unsure what I should tell everyone else. Apparently, a few months ago (after my last run-in with the Dursleys), there were these rumors going around that I was the Harry Potter who was living with them. Believe it or not, the Wizarding world refused to believe it, saying that there was no way I could have been left with Muggles like them!_

_But then what should I tell them? I already told this other boy named Ron that I grew up with Muggles who didn't like me very much. I was trying to make him feel better at the time, and I figured that honesty might help. I also made sure that I didn't go into detail about them, let alone name them. So now what do I tell him without giving away that I was treated badly by the Dursleys? For that matter, what do I tell the rest of the world? If they find out the truth, things could get really ugly, and I might never hear the end of it._

_Also, I found what looks like a kind of writing tablet in the trunk you gave me. What is it? Am I supposed to have it, or was it something which you put in by accident?_

_Sincerely,  
Harry_

For a brief moment, Pim fretted over how the secret of Harry's upbringing with his awful Muggle relatives would get loose and cause irreparable damage of all kinds. After collecting his thoughts and keeping calm, Pim wrote out a reply to Harry.

_Harry,_

_First of all, I can understand about you trying to help another young boy feel better, but now, we'll have to be more careful and revise our cover story. (I was also thinking about altering this boy's memory, but only if we REALLY had to do so. If he somehow forgets anyway, then you might want to take advantage of that.) If he doesn't even remember what you said to him about growing up with Muggles, then you might want to take advantage of that. If this boy asks again, just tell him that after things got out of control with your Muggle caretakers, you ran away and your current guardian found you._

_Now, as for my planned appearance… Dutch, at least sixty years old, gray and white hair, narrow face, and dark eyes. I'm working on a new appearance right now, and will send you an image of it as soon as possible._

_As for what you found in the trunk… yes, that is a kind of writing tablet. I must have forgotten to mention it before you left for Hogwarts. I figure that if you ever want to sketch something, take temporary notes or just doodle, then it would be ideal, as it would not be wasting materials. Obviously, you write with the pointy end. However, with sweeps of the feather-end of the quill, it will "erase" anything swept with it, like the eraser on a Muggle pencil. Make good use of it. I know you will._

_Sincerely,  
Pim_

Hedwig was resting, and so Pim gave it to one of the other owls to deliver.

Pim had purposely selected ten owls – two of each of five breeds, and one of each gender – for a reason. Well, other than the fact that he couldn't decide if he narrowed it down. The reason was that if Pim was going to have plenty of contact with the outside world, beyond his own tower, then he would need plenty of owls, just in case.

Pim was planning on contacting plenty of intellectuals and experts to ask questions about magic – sounding as innocent and innocuous as possible, of course. And beyond asking the magical intellectuals and experts, he would also ask some questions about certain things to whatever decent Muggle intellectuals and experts he could find. He had plenty of questions to ask about magic and science alike, and every day, he was finding more and more people of both worlds to ask his questions to.

However, Pim's biggest project at the moment was trying to create a new body for himself. Something of real flesh and blood, and not just made of stone like Galatea was. Now that could be tricky, but fortunately, he had a plan in mind…

* * *

As the next couple of weeks went on, Harry began to adjust to his scheduled life at Hogwarts. Each Friday morning, before Double Potions with the Slytherins, he made sure he mentally prepared himself for having to endure an hour or so with the Slytherins and their biased Head of House, Professor Snape. 

Snape rarely picked on Harry during the lessons, but whenever he did, it was some stinging, biting comment, as though he was saving them just for him.

Harry privately noted how some of Snape's comments were borderline insults and harassment, saying things the likes of which none of the other teachers said to any of their students, regardless of House.

Rather than keep all his anger at Snape bottled up, Harry found an alternative way of venting out his stress over the situation. Every time Snape said something nasty about him, Harry would commit to memory, and after the lesson was over, he would return to Gryffindor Tower and write down what Snape had said, word-for-word, on an ever-growing list which was titled, "Nasty Things Which Snape Has Said to Me." He figured that if Snape would keep up these petty insults, then Harry would make it come back to haunt him.

Otherwise, aside from Potions and Snape, Harry did well in all his other classes with their respective professors. And whenever Hagrid had the chance on Friday afternoons, Harry would stop by his hut so they could meet and talk about whatever there was to talk about.

* * *

Oannes was pleased, because Dumbledore accepted his ideas for both his obstacles around the special object and the means of getting there. The first step to getting the special object would be in the third-floor corridor, behind a door, just like the three-headed dog which guarded the other object. If anyone wanted to go after the object, they would have to get through that obstacle of his own first. They may have had a trapdoor being guarded by the dog, but he had a different kind of portal in mind. 

Now that the basic plan for protecting the object was being implemented, Oannes could finally relax a little before moving onto the next part. In fact, by now, he was completely healed from when the Darkness invaded his abode at the bottom of the sea a few months previous and dropped all those rocks on him. The last of the scars were finally healed.

If the first obstacle was the portal, then the next obstacle for Oannes would have to include the creatures which his associates had acquired for him…

* * *

Harry had spent so much of his life being made miserable by Dudley Dursley that he never considered that there could be anyone (at least his own age) who was just as cruel, if not crueler. And yet, within three weeks of his first year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had more-or-less officially taken the position of the most-hated schoolmate for Harry Potter. 

Whenever Harry walked the halls alone, Malfoy would sometimes come out of nowhere, with Crabbe and Goyle in tow, and make some sort of stupid, childish comment to tease and taunt Harry, which was followed by laughter from his two bodyguards. Harry just tuned them out, hoping that their failures to get him riled would convince them to give up. He kept telling himself, it could be worse, worse than just having to deal with them in Potions on a weekly basis, plus whatever occasional, random encounters he had with them in the halls.

However, when he and his fellow Gryffindors saw notices posted about how they would be having flying lessons with the Slytherins, he began to wonder if someone was deliberately putting them – that is, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins – together. Harry really had nothing against the Slytherins just for being Slytherins… but he began to get the feeling that they simply didn't want to get along with the Gryffindors.

Of course, the vocal protests from both Houses had been mutual, but there was really nothing more that they could do about it. Ron even made some comment about how they saw enough of the Slytherins as it was during Double Potions on Fridays, and if they had to do flying lessons with the Slytherins, then it should have been during what would have been Potions. Nearly all the other Gryffindors strongly agreed. (While Harry didn't agree with Ron's sentiments which bordered on fanaticism, he did privately agree that he didn't want to see the Slytherins any more than he had to.)

As the flying lessons drew nearer, both Gryffindors and Slytherins did various things to handle their nervousness. Being the braggart that he was, Draco Malfoy was quick to boast about how he got close enough to Muggle airplanes and helicopters without getting caught. However, Harry was just as quick to shoot down (no pun intended) Malfoy's tall tales.

"So, Malfoy," Harry suddenly spoke up one day, "You say that it was a clear day, with no clouds or anything whatsoever, when all of a sudden, a helicopter came at you out of nowhere?"

"Yeah, that's right," Malfoy said haughtily. "What about it, Potter?"

"Unless you were completely oblivious to everything else that was going on when you were flying, there's no way it could have just 'come out of nowhere,'" Harry said flatly. "With the loud noises which helicopters make, you should have been able to hear one well before it could have gotten that close to you."

Malfoy's face began to flush, and he opened his mouth to refute Harry's argument, but before he could speak, Harry also added, "Oh, and don't try to force that story about the Muggle airplanes on us; I know how high even the best broomsticks can go, and _none_ of them can get anywhere as high as a Muggle plane with jet engines."

Malfoy spluttered a little, and unable to retort, he just stalked off. The other Gryffindors looked impressed.

Speaking of which, his fellow Gryffindors also had their own experiences with flying on broomsticks, or lack thereof. Ron also had his own story, one about a near-collision with a Muggle on a hang glider on Charlie's old broom, and judging by the details and truth of his statements, Harry was more inclined to believe Ron's stories than any of Malfoy's. Seamus didn't have any particular stories about encounters with Muggles in the air, but did speak fondly of flying around the countryside when he was a child. Accident-prone Neville had never been on a broomstick before. Dean, who was raised by Muggles, tried to start some conversations about football, but this only lead to some arguments with Ron about which sport was better. Hermione knew that this was one thing which she couldn't just learn out of a book, although she did try in that regard. For an entire day, she bored the rest of her fellow Gryffindors stupid with a book entitled _Quidditch Through the Ages_ until it got to a point where, out of sheer desperation to hang onto their sanity, Lavender and Parvati secretly hid the book under Hermione's own bed so she couldn't read it.

The morning of their lessons, Harry and all the other students waited for their respective messages and packages to come in that morning's post. He was still thinking about the last serious message which Pim sent him, the one about lying about his past and upbringing, and he took Pim's advice to heart. Otherwise, Harry and Pim just sent small, casual notes back and forth. For Harry, it was nice for a change to have someone to write to, and to receive messages from in return. Hedwig certainly didn't seem to mind the exercise, either.

After skimming through Pim's note and treating Hedwig to a piece of toast, Harry casually gazed around as he saw other students going through their own mail. On the other side of the hall, Malfoy could be seen gloating over his usual package of sweets from home, delivered by his eagle owl. He smiled grimly to himself as he remembered one morning when Malfoy came over to gloat about how "Potter didn't get any packages from home" when, as if on cue, Hedwig swooped in and dropped off a letter from Pim, prompting Harry to casually say to Malfoy, "You were saying something?" Unable to think of a retort, Malfoy then stalked off.

A few seats down from Harry, Neville was presently opening a small package from his grandmother. After opening it excitedly, he found its contents: A glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke – a Remembrall. Even though Harry didn't instantly know what it was until Neville explained what it was and what it did, he had seen a couple of devices of Pim's which did the same thing: Remind a person if they were forgetting something.

As Neville was trying to remember something, Harry spotted Malfoy and his goons coming their way, directly for Neville. As Malfoy made a move to snatch the Remembrall out of Neville's hand, a sudden sound made everyone present jump. Hedwig suddenly screeched and flailed her wings, all the while staring at the Slytherin trio, as though they were doing something to upset her. As she screeched again, the ever-alert Professor McGonagall came by the Gryffindor table.

"What appears to be the problem?" she asked curtly.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, "but Hedwig seems a little bothered by something." He held out his arm and Hedwig hopped onto it, at which point Harry began to soothe her by stroking her feathers; however, he guessed what the truth was as she kept looking at the Slytherin trio all the while.

Professor McGonagall then turned to the Slytherin trio – not that she looked at them distastefully because they were Slytherins in the way that Snape looked at Gryffindors – but before she could say anything, Malfoy said, "Nothing, Professor McGonagall, we were just passing through."

After the Slytherins left, and then McGonagall did, Harry looked at his pet owl intently as she innocently preened herself. Just between the two of them, Harry whispered, "You did that on purpose, didn't you, girl?"

Hedwig cocked her head as if to ask whatever was Harry talking about, and he elaborated, "You purposely made a scene to stop Malfoy from bullying Neville."

The snowy owl bobbed her head ever so slightly, and Harry just smiled. "You did a good thing, girl. I can see you're learning; I also try to stop Malfoy before he can do any real harm. Here, for your hard work, have a piece of bacon."

Hedwig cheeped happily and as she proudly accepted Harry's treat for her. She truly did like her master. He was kind, caring, knowledgeable and generous… what more could an owl ask for?

* * *

That afternoon, both Gryffindors and Slytherins were ready for their flying lessons with Madam Hooch. With her short, gray hair and yellow eyes, she made Harry think of a hawk. She wasted no time in getting down to business, and so they all got started with summoning their brooms ("UP!"). 

She then went about, correcting the postures and grips of anyone getting it wrong. When she told Malfoy that he had been doing it wrong for years, Harry said or did nothing, although Ron looked delighted and as though he wanted to laugh.

When the time came for them to take off, Neville accidentally took off ahead of everyone else, causing his broom to fly and spiral out of control as it zoomed this way and that through the air. Neville tried to come back down, but that resulted in him falling twenty feet to the ground and breaking his wrist as his broomstick drifted out of sight towards the Forbidden Forest.

As Madam Hooch escorted Neville to the hospital wing in the castle, she warned them not to try anything or else they would be out of Hogwarts. But no sooner than they left earshot than Malfoy began to make fun of Neville's accident, with the other Slytherins joining in. After all present began to take sides – the Slytherins ridiculing Neville and the Gryffindors defending one of their own – things escalated with Malfoy finding Neville's Remembrall, which he must have left behind. Harry demanded that Malfoy hand it over, but the blond Slytherin had other ideas, and he took the Remembrall, hopped on a broom, and took off into the sky, accidentally-on-purpose knocking into Harry and Ron on the way up.

Harry could have dealt with the childish taunts from Malfoy, and he could have shrugged off the physical attack if he tried, but his strong sense of right and wrong told him that he couldn't simply stand aside and let Malfoy do this to Neville, especially when the latter wasn't even around to defend himself.

Hermione begged Harry not to do it, but he didn't heed her advice; instead, he kicked off the ground and shot after Malfoy. A moment later, Ron joined him.

Harry and Ron tried to go after Malfoy together, but to his credit, Malfoy was a great flyer (even if he had been flying wrong all these years as Madam Hooch said). He went every which way with Neville's Remembrall, confusing the both of them as they tried to catch him. Harry and Ron even nearly collided at one point, but they quickly recovered.

Finally, Ron got fed up with it and tried to ram Malfoy. As a result, the blond Slytherin dropped the Remembrall – and right beneath them was the lake.

Ron immediately dove after it, and tried to catch it, and again, and again, but Malfoy came up behind him and was pulling back on his broomstick to stop Ron from catching it.

But in one smooth, fluid motion, Harry dove down and leveled out over the water's surface, and caught the Remembrall just before it could hit the water.

"I GOT IT!" he yelled up to Ron, who whooped and threw off Malfoy, who in turn went spiraling out of control and splashed into the water.

Harry and Ron smoothly flew over to the cheering and laughing Gryffindors, while the Slytherins shot them brief dirty looks before rushing over to the lake. Both of them looked behind for a moment to see Malfoy splashing and flailing in the water, with a few tentacles rising up behind him.

However, their blissful mood came to an abrupt end soon enough…

"HARRY POTTER! RON WEASLEY!"

Everyone turned to see a shocked and outraged Professor McGonagall striding up towards them, who was muttering things like "never" and "not in all my years." Harry and Ron themselves felt shocked, and now also horrified.

After dismissing the various attempts by their fellow Gryffindors to explain what Harry and Ron were trying to do, McGonagall turned to the two of them, stony-faced, and said as calmly as she could, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, come with me now."

As Malfoy looked triumphant, even when soaking wet, Harry and Ron dejectedly cast their brooms aside and gloomily followed their Head of House inside the castle. They were really in for it now, and assuming that they survived whatever they would endure at the hands of Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore and were eventually expelled, they would have to worry about the reactions of their caretakers once they got back home. Harry inwardly winced at the thought of Pim's glacial disappointment, while Ron outwardly shuddered at the thought of his mother's volcanic anger.

Suddenly, they halted, and Professor McGonagall directed them into an empty classroom. Crossing her arms, she faced them and calmly said, "Madam Hooch has been teaching here for a long time, and I know about how she promises anyone who goes flying behind her back that they will 'be out out of here before you can say "Quidditch."' But I also know that during her time here, no students have ever dared do that, for whatever reason… until now." After pausing for a moment, she asked the two of them, "Before I make any judgments or decisions based on this, I want to hear your versions of events. If both of you defied that promise of hers, you must have both had very good reasons for doing so."

Both boys felt rays of hope begin to shine in their inner pits of dread. Did they actually have a chance?

"Mr. Potter, why don't you go first?"

Harry took a deep breath and calmly explained how, after Madam Hooch took Neville to the hospital wing, Malfoy tried to take Neville's Remembrall and do something bad with it before anyone could stop him. He also emphasized how he wanted to do something about it because it was the right thing to do, and he didn't want Malfoy getting away with something as scummy as that.

When Harry was finished with his explanation, Ron had his turn. He said that he just wanted to help Harry out and also do the right thing.

After a poker-faced Professor McGonagall observed them both for a few moments longer, she finally said, "I see. Come with me."

So they both followed her out of the room and up a few more flights of stairs before stopping at another classroom, this one currently in use. She then poked her head in and asked, "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Harry looked confused, and the mention of "wood" made him wonder if they still practiced corporal punishment here at Hogwarts, but Ron had a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Wood, a burly fifth-year Gryffindor, came out looking confused at the situation but at Harry and Ron curiously. Upon seeing him, the recognition in Ron's eyes seemed to flicker a little brighter.

And so the three of them followed her to another classroom which was empty (except for Peeves, who was currently writing rude words on the blackboard). After Professor McGonagall got the poltergeist to leave, she addressed her three Gryffindors.

"Potter, Weasley, this is Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wood – I've found you a Seeker and a replacement Seeker."

Now Wood began to look delighted. "Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," she said crisply. "These boys are naturals. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted, "but I haven't been flying that much since I got a broomstick a couple of months ago, either. I guess it just comes naturally to me."

As Harry felt his hopes of avoiding expulsion rise, Professor McGonagall was telling Wood something about how he caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive without scratching himself, which even Charlie Weasley couldn't have done. McGonagall was also explaining about how Ron came close to catching it as well.

"So, I've decided that because he caught it, Mr. Potter will be your new Seeker, and because he nearly caught it, Mr. Weasley will be the replacement Seeker."

Ron had this goofy, excited grin on his face, while Wood was looking as though all his dreams had come true.

"They're also the right builds for Seekers, too," Wood added, sizing them up, "light and speedy. But as for getting them a decent broom…"

"I have a Nimbus Two Thousand," Harry explained to save Wood the trouble of going any further. "And I don't mind sharing it with Ron."

Professor McGonagall was going on about talking to Professor Dumbledore and seeing about bending the first-year rule as Harry and Ron were sharing surprised looks. After she dismissed Wood, saying he could return to class, she peered sternly over her glasses at the two younger boys.

"This is something of a unique situation, what the two of you have done, and the way I see it, sometimes unique situations call for unique solutions. I want to hear that both of you are training hard, or else I just might change my mind about punishing you and how I do that."

However, once she was done with the obligatory warning, she did smile a little.

"I know your older brothers will be impressed, Weasley," she told Ron, before she turned to Harry and said: "Your father would have been proud, seeing as he was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

* * *

At dinner, Harry felt relieved that he hadn't been expelled, and that his "punishment" was to be the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Immediately after McGonagall had dealt with him and Ron, Harry wrote a letter to Pim, asking him to send the broomstick. He explained about what happened, but also stressing how he was not happy that he got "rewarded" in a way for breaking the rules. He was sure that Pim would understand. 

Meanwhile, Ron felt very happy, because he was so excited about this new turn of events. However, at the same time, something was nagging at him. Before they could discuss anything further about Ron getting his own broomstick, Harry had to suggest bringing in his own broomstick and sharing it with Ron. If only Harry had held his tongue, Ron could have gotten a broomstick all for himself; he was sure that the school could have sprung for it. And while he had to agree that it sounded fair that Harry became the Seeker because he caught Neville's Remembrall, thus making Ron the replacement Seeker, that bothered him a little too.

"We must be the youngest house players in a century," Ron muttered to Harry under his breath so no one else could hear them.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said; Wood had already told him that, and Ron had repeated it a few more times after that.

So far, it was a secret which only they knew, along with the rest of the team; Fred and George had even come by to congratulate them, saying things like how they must have been good to make Wood so happy and how they would win the Quidditch Cup for sure this year.

"Well," Ron said smugly, "I just can't wait to see the looks on those stupid Slytherins' faces when we hammer them at Quidditch…"

As Ron continued to rant, Harry's patience finally ran out, and with an exasperated sigh, he collecting his things and left from the Gryffindor Table and swept out of the Great Hall.

He had just turned a corner when Ron came running up to him, asking, "Harry, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that, to be honest, I'm getting sick and tired of your rants," Harry said as calmly as he could.

"What rants?" Ron asked as he gaped incredulously.

"The way you go on and on about how it's so nice to be a Gryffindor, being so much better than the Slytherins… I hate to say it, but you sound a lot like Malfoy."

Ron looked insulted. "No I don't! I don't sound like that ponce!"

"Replace the word 'Gryffindor' with 'Slytherin' and your speeches are practically identical to his."

Deep down, Ron knew this to be true, so he countered with, "At least I'm not a pureblood idiot like he is!"

"As someone once told me, it takes more to be a good person than simply not being a prejudicial fool." _Thank you, Pim,_ Harry mentally added.

Ron's face began to flush red. "At least I don't sound all high-and-mighty like you right now."

Harry had to admit that in retrospect, he did sound a little arrogant the way he said that, quoting Pim's wisdom. "The point is, Ron, I'm just simply tired of constantly hearing you rant on and on about Slytherins when you sound quite a lot like one of them."

"Oh, come on, Harry, don't tell me you like Malfoy!"

"Granted, I don't like Malfoy… but I don't dislike him because he's a Slytherin, I dislike him because he's a jerk. It's as simple as that."

Looking for some kind of rebuttal, Ron spat out, "He's a Slytherin, you're a Gryffindor! You ought to be loyal to your own House!"

"I am loyal to my House, Ron, but if being a loyal Gryffindor means constantly rambling on about how being a Gryffindor is the greatest thing ever and how bad the other Houses are, then I don't think I like it."

And with that, he turned to leave, leaving Ron behind him, who was gaping like a fish.

On the next floor up, Harry was approached by another person: Hermione.

"Harry," she said, "I heard what happened. To be honest, I am not so sure about Ron's beliefs about the school Houses either."

"Hm," Harry said in acknowledgement, not really wanting to talk about it.

"I think we might have something in common, Harry," Hermione said, although a little nervously.

"Oh?"

"I see how you like to read and study like I do. We're probably both of the top students in our year. We both like to take in facts and knowledge. And I know how hard it can be to make friends…"

Something about that last statement rubbed off the wrong way with Harry, and before Hermione could continue any further, he blurted, "Excuse me?"

However, before Hermione could answer, Harry heard muffled laughter from around a corner. He spun around to see a lot of older girls (most of them Slytherins) giggling and whispering to each other in gossipy tones. His patience when he hit the breaking point when he heard the words "Harry Potter" and "unable to make friends" used together in the same sentence by one of the girls. As he narrowed his eyes at those words, they fled like a pack of birds.

Whirling around on his heel, Harry turned around and stalked back towards Hermione, looking angry. Upon seeing the angry look on his face, she knew she had done something wrong.

"Why did you say that?" Harry asked quietly but in a tone which was not at all comforting.

"Well, I…" she began to say, but as her voice faltered and was unable to finish that sentence, he continued himself.

"So you thought that I had trouble making friends… why? Because you never really had any friends yourself?"

Harry knew to himself that he was figuratively stabbing in the dark with that wild guess, but judging by Hermione's embarrassed reaction, he saw that his wild guess was correct.

"Well, I… I just assumed…

"Yes, you assumed," Harry cut her off. "You assumed wrong."

"Please, understand," she said. "I didn't have all that many friends back either in my old Muggle school… I thought you had the same problem as me."

"Oh?" Harry asked, his tone of voice expressing doubt. "What was your problem in primary school before you came to Hogwarts? You know, the one stopping you from having friends?"

"Well," she said in a small voice, now that she was the one being asked the questions, "no one ever talked to me…"

"Was there ever a bully who kept going out of his or her way to make your life miserable, and who also threatened to bully anyone else who tried to be nice to you?"

Hermione thought about it. True, a few people had teased and taunted her occasionally… but certainly not to the extent like how Harry seemed to be describing. "Well, no," she admitted.

"I'm guessing you could have gone up and talked to someone any time you would have liked, right?" When Hermione didn't answer that, Harry pressed on with, "So you had the opportunity to make friends with other people, but you didn't, because you just preferred books instead?"

Before Hermione even knew it, she felt herself nodding her head affirmatively. "Then I guess you and I have had very different problems. You just didn't want to make friends; I wanted to make friends, but there was always one particular bully who always stopped it from happening. So I guess you were wrong, which means you assumed incorrectly, which means you don't know everything. Are you done now? Anything else you want to assume for someone else standing by to overhear?"

Hermione looked at him nervously, put off by his cold and somewhat aggressive attitude.

Not waiting for an answer, Harry turned around and briskly walked down the hall, wanting to put some comfortable distance between himself and Hermione.

Harry went up another floor, hoping to maybe hide out in the library where no one could bother him, at least not without incurring the wrath of Madam Pince. However, Harry soon heard sounds behind him, like a small group of people hurrying up to catch him; he didn't feel comfortable with that, so he quickly spun around, wand ready, to find Malfoy behind him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"No need to get so hasty, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Although, I do have to wonder… how was your last meal? You know, before you and Weasley get sent back home?"

As Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly, Harry thought about what to say. "Well, sorry to tell you this, Malfoy, but I don't plan on leaving Hogwarts anytime soon."

Malfoy stared. "You're bluffing."

"Nope," Harry said, his face concealing nothing.

Malfoy's face darkened as he fumed about his hopes for seeing Harry Potter's expulsion evaporate.

"Now that I think about it… where's your friend Weasley?"

"He's not my friend, and as you can see, he's not with me," Harry said coolly.

Now Malfoy was intrigued. Assuming that Potter and Weasley were ever actually friends in the first place, he wondered what drove them apart.

"Well then, Potter. I could take you on anytime. Tell you what… how about a wizard's duel? Tonight, if you want. Wands only, no contact. What, you've never heard of a wizard's duel before?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," Harry calmly countered. It was true; Pim had told him about them, and according to some of his own reading, wizards duels and their rules hadn't changed that much in the past thousand years or so.

"In which case, who's your second?" Malfoy sneered.

"I'll be fine by myself," Harry said.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on it. Turning around, he sized up Crabbe and Goyle, and turning back to Harry, he said, "Crabbe's my second."

"Okay, now what? When do you want to do this?"

"Tonight, in the trophy room – that's always unlocked."

Once the three Slytherins were around the corner and gone, Harry decided to go to the library and look up the rules on dueling, just in case.

* * *

A few corridors away, Dumbledore was doing damage control. 

He had witnessed the spectacle with Miss Granger assuming out loud that Mister Potter had social problems which made it hard for him to have any friends. Fortunately, after the older girls who were eavesdropping fled around the corner, they ran into the Headmaster himself. Acting innocent and pretending to be completely unaware of the spectacle itself, Dumbledore rambled a little in his "eccentric old Headmaster" mode about how spreading gossip was bad and tended to come back to haunt the gossiper. The girls didn't know whether the Headmaster was aware of the spectacle or not, but either way, they got the hint. At least that potential catastrophe was now averted.

For the time being, Dumbledore could only hope that Harry would be able to make some friends; Merlin knew he deserved some kind of companion.

In the meantime, the Headmaster was in the final stage of picking out a room near the currently-forbidden third-floor corridor for a new acquisition, courtesy of Oannes…

* * *

Pim was busy as usual, working on various kinds of energy sources. So far, he had jury-rigged a few things together, and as far as temporary power sources went, they were doing their jobs. 

The solar panels on roof of the tower were already doing well, the small windmills around the edge of the property were also helping in their own way, and that newly-installed lightning rod on the very top of the tower had come in handy during a thunderstorm not so long ago. If the solar panels kept doing a good job, Pim just might put some of them on the eastern and western sides of the tower for maximum exposure to the sun.

However, Pim was still debating the issue with trying nuclear energy. During the past summer, he and Harry had learned firsthand about Muggle technology malfunctioning when exposed to magic itself, and with something as tricky as nuclear energy… well, let it just be said that Pim was being more cautious than ever.

Wisely, Pim had been reading up on nuclear power and its destructive consequences, ranging from the deliberate (such as the use of the atomic bombs in World War Two) to the accidental (especially the accident in Chernobyl barely five years before). While Pim humbly considered himself to be a smart, intelligent wizard, he still couldn't just build a nuclear reactor of his own. On top of that, there would also be the issue of where he would get the radioactive material, be it plutonium or uranium or something else altogether.

At the moment, Pim was being absolutely frugal with how he was conserving his energy. In fact, he had even come to an unspoken agreement with his owls to spend as much time outside the tower and in the park itself as possible. He just wanted enough energy to be able to last the entire winter holiday with Harry. According to his estimates, if he remained absolutely frugal from now until then, Pim would be able to do just that.

* * *

At ten minutes to midnight, Harry silently got out of bed fully-dressed, made sure he had his wand, and exited his dormitory unseen. (He also went unheard, thanks to Ron's snoring.) 

He knew that was he was doing was wrong, especially by breaking yet another rule even after he had narrowly escaped a conventional albeit dire punishment, and was risking getting caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris, but he decided that he would humor Malfoy and show up anyway.

Besides, between what Pim had taught him, what he had learned on his own, and what he was learning at Hogwarts, he figured he knew enough spells to protect himself.

After creeping carefully down the spiral staircase and through the Gryffindor common room, making sure he wasn't being watched, he exited through the portrait hole.

As Harry carefully made his way through the halls, he reflected to himself about this turn which his life was taking. As far back as he could remember he had walked this path of loneliness and sadness. It almost felt like some greater force was at working, mocking him, continuing to make things difficult, but now in new and different ways.

It seemed like this was the only way which Harry knew, which he always walked along, even now. As the rest of the castle slept, he walked on this path of fleeting hopes. He always kept hoping to walk beside something other than his own shadow.

However, before Harry got anywhere near the trophy room, he heard a sort of snuffling sound. He was initially afraid that it was Mrs. Norris, but it turned out to be Neville.

"Neville?" he asked in surprise while trying to keep himself as quiet as possible. Neville was curled up in a ball, fast asleep, but Harry's voice snapped him out of it.

"Harry?" Neville asked blearily. As he became more awake and realized what was going on, he thanked Harry profusely for finding him ("I've been out here for hours because I couldn't remember the new password!" he explained).

"It's 'pig snout,' but the Fat Lady's gone at the moment," Harry told him. "By the way, how's your arm?"

"Oh, it's fine, Madam Pomfrey fixed it in about a minute."

"Well, I have something I need to do, so… see you later."

"Wait, what about me?" Neville asked, sounding worried again. "The Bloody Baron's been past here twice already!"

"Well, I suppose you could just go back to her portrait and wait for her to return so you can get back into Gryffindor Tower," Harry tried to suggest helpfully.

Neville appeared to be weighing his options, and ultimately, he decided to try Harry's idea. "Thanks," Neville said gratefully, and then hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.

With that taken care of, Harry continued on his way to the trophy room, checking around every suspicious corner and dashing down moonlight-striped corridors. After he sped up a staircase to the third floor, he tiptoed into the trophy room, with all its shiny metal contents.

Harry waited until midnight, ever alert for Malfoy or someone else. Finally, at midnight, he could hear someone coming… but it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner," said Filch to Mrs. Norris. As Harry realized what was going on, he realized that Malfoy must have set him up. So, was Filch got ever closer to where Harry was now, the boy crept away from them and towards the door. However, just as Harry was at the door, he heard a mewling sound behind him and saw Mrs. Norris, her eyes locked onto him.

As she hissed angrily, proclaiming her discovery of the rule-breaking student, Harry bolted, throwing open the door and running down the corridor before Filch could see him and identify him. Harry didn't know where he was running to, but he figured as long as he stayed out of Filch's line of sight, he was safe.

He ran behind a tapestry, down a corridor, and through a room, before he realized that he had hit a dead end, except for one single door, which might have been his only chance at salvation from Filch. Harry dashed to the door, and without even thinking about it, he opened it, ran inside, and quickly shut the door behind him without actually slamming it shut. After regaining his breath and taking a moment to relax, he turned around to see something which he didn't know was there.

Made of dark gray stone, it looked like an archway, of sorts – big, wide, and square. However, despite its size, it was still relatively small compared to the rest of the big room; in fact, it almost looked to Harry like a stage prop, the way it was just standing there. In the center was a circular recess, about three or four meters wide, and only about half a meter deep before there was more of the same stone at the bottom of the recess.

On either side of the circular recess but still within the object itself were two bas-relief figures in profile, both of them facing the circular recess, which looked mostly human, but were definitely not entirely human. If Harry had to describe these two figures, he would have described them as "scorpion people." The bearded figure on the left looked to be male, while the other figure on the right with her softer features looked to be female. Instead of clothing of any sort, these two figures had smooth scales over their bodies which ended at their ankles, wrists and necks, leaving their feet, hands, and heads bare of such scales, with what looked like human skin instead. And, of course, the reason he would have called them "scorpion people" was because of these big, scorpion-like stingers which grew out of the bases of their spines and went high enough so that their pointy ends were above their heads.

Harry just stood there, gazing at it; looking closer, he could see that something was written in cuneiform in the block over the circle and the two figures. However, as he took a step closer to get a better look, he must have caused something to happen, because then the two figures became alive.

Their eyes suddenly opened, giving off not-so-bright white light. The male figure suddenly turned his head so it was no longer in profile but facing Harry fully. In a somewhat eerie voice which made chills run up Harry's spine, he spoke: "_What is the name of the hero who lost that which is beyond here?"_

Its head just as suddenly snapped back into its original position, and then, an instant later, the female figure's head turned to face him. "_Answer correctly, and we will give you access; answer incorrectly, and we will defend our station; say nothing, and you may leave unharmed."_

As the female figure's head likewise snapped back into place, Harry was now extremely curious to know what this was all about, but he wisely held his tongue. But as he made to leave, the door suddenly began to open, and beyond it, Harry heard a man's wheezing and a cat's mewling.

It was Filch and Mrs. Norris! Moving fast, Harry ran to the side and around the big stone object; he was safely out of view of the caretaker and his cat, but he knew that, barring some sort of intervention, he was only delaying the inevitable…

The two scorpion-people then spoke again, just as they did before; they must have been talking to Filch. However, it seemed to Harry that Filch's desire to catch and punish potential troublemakers overrode his patience and common sense, because he just snarled, "Don't bother me with that now, will you! I have to catch whoever's out of bed and roaming the corridors!"

That must have been the wrong answer, because with sounds like stone breaking apart, the two scorpion-people came down from their places in the object, and began to move in on Filch.

Deciding that it was now or never, Harry ran back from the other side of the object and ran out of the room before they could go after him; he quickly figured out that as long as he didn't say anything, Filch wouldn't know that he was there and the scorpion-people wouldn't attack him for saying something which couldn't have been their correct answer. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the two scorpion-people looming menacingly over Filch, who was protecting Mrs. Norris in his coat, shouting, "Don't fear, my sweet, we'll figure out a way to get out of this!"

Desperate to put as much distance between himself and Filch as possible, Harry ran to the end of the corridor, where his only possible escape was through a door… which just happened to be locked. However, he did remember a new spell which he had come across and had learned: "_Alohamora!"_ After the lock clicked and the door swung open, Harry dashed inside.

From the other side of the door, Harry could hear distant sounds and voices, such as Filch still screaming in fright and terror… but then a new voice, nervous and stuttering, could be heard: Professor Quirrell. From where he was, even with his ear pressed against the door, Harry could just barely make out what they were saying; apparently, Quirrell was making the scorpion-people stand down and making sure that Filch was alright. Soon enough, their voices faded as they walked away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry turned around to lean back against the door and relax for a moment… but then he realized something. The first thing he realized was that he was in a corridor, not a room. The next thing he realized was that this must be the forbidden corridor on the third floor. The final thing he realized was that he now saw why it was forbidden.

_Nothing quite says "this is forbidden" like a giant three-headed dog,_ Harry thought to himself, feeling panic coming on to him.

Harry had read enough mythology to know about Cerberus, the three-headed dog which guarded the entrance to the Underworld in Greek mythology, whose job it was to make sure that the souls of the dead went in, and that none got out. From what he could recall, practically the only times when a mortal had ever managed to get past the monster or even subdue it was when the talented Orpheus charmed it with his music on his quest to reclaim his beloved Eurydice, when the shrewd king Sisyphus arrived in the Underworld looking like a beggar and tricked Hades into returning to the world of the living to let him receive the proper funeral rites, only to continue living for several more years, or when Heracles (better known by his Roman name Hercules) brought the beast itself back to present to his corrupt cousin Eurystheus as his final labor. Unfortunately for Harry, he was not anywhere close to being that musically talented, that clever or that strong, a point which was driven home as he looked at this beast, and it looked at him.

Harry thought for just a moment how, while he was bad enough in his own way, even Ripper couldn't compare to Cerberus, not with the latter having three heads on a massive body, with each having mean eyes, strong noses, and sets of big, yellowish fangs. To be frank, this dog could have easily devoured that mean old bulldog with only one bite. As the beast began to take some steps forward, it suddenly tripped and made a yowling sound, one so loud that it hurt Harry's ears and made him worry that it just might wake up the whole castle. It fell over to one side, and the head on that side closest to the wall whacked itself against the wall, letting out another yowl of pain.

Looking closer, Harry could see a food bowl which was now shattered; the Cerberus must have stepped on it as it focused on him, because one of its shards was stuck in its front paw. Lying on its side and clearly in pain, all three heads looked at him as they whimpered in pain.

Something about Harry compelled him to do something about it. Sure, he could just flee and leave the Cerberus like this, but then something deep within him realized that the fearsome hound might remember this if Harry ever crossed paths with it again. And Harry didn't want the three-headed dog to think it was just another scoundrel, the kind of person which it was most likely trained to guard against.

So, summoning all of his courage and bravery, Harry slowly and gently approached the Cerberus, making soothing sounds. Lifting up its huge paw (which was easily just as big as his own head, if not bigger), Harry did his best to remove the ceramic shard while causing as little pain as possible. After a few moments, he finally got it out and tossed it aside, far away from the hound.

Once it knew that the shard was gone, the Cerberus withdrew its paw and licked its wound with one of its heads. Harry stayed there for a few moments, wondering whether he should stay a little longer or go while he had the chance. Once the dog was done treating its own wound, it turned its attention back to him, with all three of its heads looming over him.

The next moment, Harry knew he didn't have to worry about the Cerberus killing or somehow otherwise harming him – especially after it decided to show its affection and gratitude by having each of its three heads lick him with their big tongues. After a few moments, when they were done with that and Harry had drool all over his front, he calmly took out his wand and used a cleaning spell which Pim had taught him. He had to do it about a dozen times to make all the drool go away, but it was worth it.

After he was done with cleaning himself of dog drool, he saw all three heads lowered to his level, with their eyes looking expectantly at him. Sensing what they wanted him to do, he scratched all three of them behind the ears, one at a time. Through the reciprocation of good will, Harry could sense that he had gained this dog's trust.

"You're not so bad, are you?" he commented aloud. All three heads simply looked back at him, their tongues lolling happily.

However, being wary of the time, Harry decided that now would be a good opportunity to return back to Gryffindor Tower before he got in any more trouble, especially with the professors. As he got up, Harry thought he saw something under the Cerberus – was that possibly a trapdoor? – said to the magical creature, "Well, nice meeting you, but I have to go now," and then left.

On the entire way back to Gryffindor Tower, during which he walked as quietly as possible and looked around every corner in advance, Harry thought about what he had just experienced. He remembered how Hagrid told him more than a month ago how no place in the world could be safer than Gringotts for something, except maybe for Hogwarts. He also remembered the grubby package from vault seven hundred and thirteen, as well as the other packaged object which Hagrid had picked up at some point after that.

Between the scorpion-people and the Cerberus guarding the portal and the trapdoor respectively, Harry could tell that this was just too much to be a mere coincidence. Exactly what was going on here?

* * *

A/N: I realize how I'm sticking to canon in some ways, but I also hope that what I'm doing to make it more original and different is showing. _(Also, it took a little while for me to write and then post, between Real Life, writing the chapter itself, and concerns as to whether or not it was fine the way it was.)_

**Regarding the chapter title… it's derived from the wisdom about how "familiarity breeds contempt."**

The question as to whether or not Harry might be friends with Ron or Hermione or even get along with them will be answered in the next chapter.

The thing with Harry gaining Fluffy's trust was something of a throwback to the fable of Androcles and the lion.

_You know what to do… review!_

–_**Quillian**_  
**(First posted: September 30, 2007)  
(Last edited: November 5, 2007)**


	12. FOUL PLAY

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** This chapter covers events from the aftermath of the midnight romp up to the Quidditch match; note the twists on these events.

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Eleven, "Quidditch."**

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN  
FOUL PLAY**

If Harry wasn't so tired the next morning, he probably would have been more amused by the stunned look on Malfoy's face. He had finally fallen asleep the previous night, but not before thinking of a few ways to try and get Malfoy back for this. Then again, just seeing that look on Malfoy's face almost made it worth it.

Harry was also wondering about the two different objects and the respective things guarding them. Other than remembering what their sizes were, he didn't have any other parameters with which to deduce what they could possibly be.

That same morning after that night's events, Dumbledore made an announcement just as most people were beginning breakfast. The Headmaster announced that there was now a new place off-limits, which was a certain room near the third-floor corridor which was also off-limits for this year. Harry knew this to be the room in which he saw the portal-like object with the scorpion-people; he guessed that maybe Dumbledore had just had it set up, or maybe wasn't expecting people to find it too soon… who knew? Either way, he was currently preparing a cover story for himself just in case Dumbledore or anyone else ever figured it out.

Ron and Hermione gave no indication of knowing about Harry's escapade the previous night, and after what had happened between Harry and each of them, he planned on keeping it that way. Neville, on the other hand, said nothing about it, but was still very grateful to Harry for helping him out with getting him back into Gryffindor Tower.

Ever since his respective arguments with Ron and Hermione, he had been keeping some distance from them, and them from him. Whenever he had to pair up with someone for classes, he often ended up with Neville, and the two of them made a decent pair of partners. In fact, during Potions, Neville managed to significantly help Harry, and together, they brewed one of the best potions out of anyone in the class. Everyone was rather shocked by this turnabout with Neville's performance, even Professor Snape; in fact, Snape was so shocked by it all that, because he spent too much time fixated on Harry and Neville, waiting for them to cause a disaster, that he was completely oblivious to Crabbe and Goyle's disastrous potion until the acid began eating through his own shoes.

Of course, Snape found some way to cover for his negligent blunder, and he did this by berating Harry and Neville, claiming that they had "distracted him from watching and supervising the entire class with their own shenanigans." All of the Gryffindors were just bursting, ready to argue with Snape about who was really at fault, but once they got back to their dormitories, Harry simply added a new entry to his catalogue about how Snape was quite oblivious to the mistakes of his own Slytherins because he was too busy waiting for the Gryffindors to do something wrong. The list of things which Snape had done was beginning to get quite long; Harry had used up a full roll of parchment already!

For the most part, whenever Harry wanted to talk to someone, he would find a secluded place on the Hogwarts grounds in the cool weather of early autumn, call for Hedwig, and simply talk to her. It started out as small talk at first, but before Harry knew it, he was beginning to pour his heart out to her. If Hedwig ever had any problems with being the one to listen to his concerns and occasional sorrows, then she never showed it.

"You know, you're very lucky you never met the Dursleys," Harry told her on one occasion. "I hate to think what they might have done to you. I saw what Dudley did to some of his own pets and how his parents let him do that. He treated them more like other toys rather than living creatures. I think he might have even killed a couple, I'm really not sure…"

Hedwig felt a small shiver at that last part, because one of the biggest things which all pets and familiars everywhere feared were abusive or negligent owners. And while she was not oblivious to her master's past, or his status in wizarding society, she still wouldn't leave him.

Hedwig leaned forward and gave him a reassuring nip on the ear to let him know it was alright, and feeling a little better, Harry smiled. "Good girl, Hedwig, clever owl." With that, he moved so he could just lie back on the grass against the tree and relax, while a proud Hedwig fluttered up to a branch above so she could watch him and be on the lookout for any unwelcome company as her master relaxed.

* * *

About a week after Harry's midnight adventure, six of Pim's owls (the Barns, the Browns, and the Tawnys) came with something in the mail for him, and judging by its shape alone, he could easily guess what this thing in the package was. However, common sense told him not to open it at the table in front of everyone, and he didn't need Professor McGonagall or Pim to tell him that.

"Hey, is that-" Ron began to ask, but Harry quickly and quietly cut him off with "Yes, it's what we need, and I don't think we should open it here."

Harry had been privately worrying about Quidditch practice, now that he and Ron weren't on the best of terms. He just hoped that nothing bad would happen.

Harry did his best to hide the package from view for the rest of breakfast, but once it was over, he briskly and subtly made his way back to his dormitory with the package in tow. About halfway from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower, he encountered Professor McGonagall.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," she said, "it's good to see that you've got your broomstick. Oliver Wood will be waiting for you and Mr. Weasley tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said dutifully.

Once he was back in his own room, Harry removed the packaging and observed his familiar broomstick. After going over it to make sure that it had not been damaged in any way during its transport from the Tower of Pim to Hogwarts, he put it safely in his trunk.

He went back down the stairs to his dormitory with his bookbag, to find the common room empty except for Hermione Granger, who didn't look happy.

"I know that was a broomstick," she said, looking at him disapprovingly. "Are you trying to see how many other rules you can get away with breaking?"

"For your information, I'm not getting away with breaking any rules," Harry countered.

"First-years can't bring their own broomsticks, or have you forgotten?"

"Oh, that's still the case. However, it seems I need this. Just ask Professor McGonagall; it was her idea."

Hermione just stood there, staring at him; Harry took advantage of this by walking straight past her and to the portrait hole.

However, at the same time, Harry could see that genuinely hurt look on Hermione's face which he had seen occasionally since he had snapped at her. It made him wonder to himself if maybe, just maybe, he had done something wrong with what he had said and done to her then.

* * *

Harry was down at the Quidditch pitch by half past six; he wanted to get there early enough, partially because he just wanted some time to himself. He was still trying to prepare himself for anything, just in case he got into another fight with Ron.

Soon enough, Ron and Wood showed up. It looked as though Ron was just as anxious about this as Harry was himself. Harry frowned inwardly, just a little; if it hadn't been for that stupid argument about the Houses, they would be getting along right now. But for now, Harry and Ron would have to work together for the sake of the team.

After making sure that Harry and Ron both knew the rules, Wood got them started on practice. However, it turned out that Ron wasn't quite as good as Harry when it came to Seeking, although he certainly tried his best.

After a little while with Ron practicing his Seeking, Wood called to him, "Hey, Weasley, I was just wondering about something. Go fly to the goal posts."

Although a little confused by Wood's instructions, Ron followed them. On his own broom, Wood took the Quaffle and kept throwing it at Ron. Out of several tries, Ron caught the Quaffle more often than not. Still, he seemed to be better at Keeping than at Seeking.

"Ah, I think I have an idea," Wood said, a small smile. "Weasley, maybe we can make you the replacement Keeper instead of the replacement Seeker."

Ron didn't say anything, but he just nodded instead; besides, it wasn't as though he really had a say in it because of his unique recruitment to the Quidditch team.

They kept practicing until it got dark, at which time, Wood finally let them go back to the castle. Harry and Ron didn't say a word to each other, and both of them just wanted it that way.

* * *

On Halloween morning, Professor Flitwick announced that he would be teaching them all how to make objects fly, which enthused all the students. Even Harry was looking forward to it, because even though Pim had taught him some older and more ancient spells for such things, Harry knew that it would be a good idea to know the newest and most modern spells.

After Flitwick was done explaining about how they should say the incantation of "_Wingardium Leviosa"_ and swish and flick their wands in the proper way, as well as demonstrating it himself, he set them all to it. Harry and Neville worked together well enough, but it was a different story altogether with Ron and Hermione, who were more likely bickering at each other more than they were working together. Harry merely did his best to tune them out while he worked on making his own feather levitate with the spell.

It took a few tries, but he finally managed to say it perfectly and make it levitate perfectly. "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ he said with a swish and a flick of his wand, and the feather gracefully rose in the air and floated for a few moments before it finally settled back down on his desk.

Professor Flitwick looked delighted. "Oh, bravo, Mr. Potter!" he said as he applauded, clapping his hands. "Well done!"

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick," Harry said gracefully.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still determined to make her feather levitate as soon as possible, to show that she could. After some more bickering with Ron and a challenge from him to see if she could do it, Hermione was finally able to do it herself, earning herself equal praise from Flitwick. As Hermione was beaming, Ron was scowling.

After class, Ron finally vented his spleen. After mimicking Hermione's lecturing to him about how to pronounce the incantation, Ron commented to Dean and Seamus, "It's no wonder no one can stand her, because honestly, she's a nightmare."

At which point, Hermione nearly collided with them, in tears, as she hurried past them.

"I think she might have heard you," Harry muttered to Ron.

"So? She must've noticed she's got no friends."

If Ron looked at all uncomfortable by what he had just done, then he didn't show it.

* * *

"Is everything ready, Quirrell?"

"Yes, my Master," Quirrell said humbly to the Dark Lord who was with him wherever he went. "It should be the perfect distraction while I go after the Philosopher's Stone."

"Perfect."

* * *

Harry took in the sight and smells of the Great Hall all dressed up for Halloween. Harry was initially surprised by the thousand live bats which fluttered from walls and ceiling plus another thousand or so which swooped over the tables in low black clouds. He also had to admit that the floating jack-o-lanterns replacing the usual hovering candles were a nice touch.

Looking around, Harry could see Ron sitting closer to his twin brothers, and that Hermione was nowhere to be found. He had overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about how Hermione was hiding in the girls' bathroom, crying and insisting that she be left alone. If Ron was bothered at all by this, then he didn't show it. Harry just figured to give her some space.

The students were all just beginning their meals when the main doors to the Great Hall suddenly swung open and Professor Quirrell entered, turban askew and walking briskly up to the High Table and looking nervous, or at least more nervous than usual. However, from where he was sitting, Harry could see the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor muttering something to himself, and he was sure that he caught the words "troll" and "dungeon."

"Professor Quirrell, what is the matter?" Professor Dumbledore asked as calmly as possible.

Looking around wildly, Quirrell knelt over to whisper something in the Headmaster's ear. Dumbledore's eyes widened oh-so-slightly, and collecting himself, he stood up, cleared his throat, and was about to say something when suddenly Peeves barged in.

"There's a troll in the dungeons," the poltergeist shouted at the top of his lungs, unable to contain his glee. "There's a troll in the dungeons, THERE'S A TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

"Is this true, Professor Quirrell?" Dumbledore asked him. Quirrell just nodded, although he looked liable to completely lose his head at any moment.

And with that, Peeves swooped out of the Great Hall, cackling madly. As soon as he was gone, an uproar immediately broke out in the Great Hall, with everyone panicking, especially the students. It took Dumbledore several purple firecrackers from his wand to bring everyone's attention back to him, and as soon as he had everyone's attention, he ordered the prefects to lead their respective Houses back to their dormitories immediately. Harry also noted to himself how Percy was in his element, one of the only few confident or even happy people in the entire hall as he led the Gryffindors back to their tower.

However, as Harry tagged along with the other Gryffindors, he realized something. He even slowed down in his footsteps as he thought about it, and by the time he came to a stop, he was at the very rear of the group.

"Harry!" Ron hissed to him. "What are you doing?"

"I just realized," Harry whispered as he ducked into an alcove. "Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron thought it over, but then he said, "So? I'm sure she'll be fine."

Harry could see where he was going with this, and he didn't like it. "So you're perfectly fine with the possibility of a troll somehow killing or hurting one of your own Housemates?"

"I didn't say that," Ron swiftly defended himself. "I'm just pointing out that it might not even be in the same part of the castle as her, and she knows plenty of spells."

"And if something that bad happens to her? Will you be fine with that?"

Ron didn't have an answer for that one. Not waiting for one, Harry turned around and made to find Hermione.

"You can't be serious," Ron said. "You're barmy! Going back for her even after how she annoyed both of us…"

Now that struck a chord with Harry. He remembered how he had acted towards Hermione, and how she now thought that he hated her. If something happened to her, and among her last thoughts were how he had acted towards her…

"Somehow, I don't think that's something worth letting her get killed over," Harry said, heading towards where Hermione might be hiding. Just before turning a corner, Harry called back to Ron, "Besides, it's something a Gryffindor would do."

Ron shook his head, and made to catch up with the rest of his House. However, he was at the foot of another staircase which he needed to take when he thought about Harry's words. He simply wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower and there he'd be safe from the troll… but something was stopping him from doing just that.

Finally, he cursed under his breath, and rushed back in the direction where he thought Harry might have gone.

Meanwhile, Harry was moving as swiftly as he could, even while he looked around corners first before turning them. However, as he hid momentarily behind a stone griffin, he could see Snape crossing the corridor and heading for the third floor.

_What's he doing?_ Harry thought to himself, but put that at the back of his mind. He still had to find Hermione.

However, as he got closer to where Hermione would most likely be hiding, he could smell something bad. Looking around the corner into the girl's bathroom, he could see the source of that bad smell: the troll itself. He took one look at the troll, with its massive size and big club to boot, and knew he had to come up with a plan. But what?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a high, petrified scream whose voice he immediately recognized – Hermione, who must have seen the troll. As the troll began to grunt and raise its club, Harry knew he had to act fast. He probably couldn't have stopped it outright with force, but the least he could do was distract it.

"_Ignicatulus!"_ he shouted, and what Pim had once humorously called his "Hellpuppy" sprang from the tip of Harry's wand and went after the troll. As dumb and thick as it was, the troll still knew when it was being hurt by fire, so it screamed and howled as it tried to shoo the Hellpuppy away. As the troll was being distracted by that, Harry dashed around it to where Hermione was cowering in a corner; she had obviously been crying a little.

"Harry?" she hiccupped. "What are you doing here?"

"I was originally going to warn you about the troll… but I think now it's more of a matter of getting away from it."

But before Hermione could respond, there was a groaning sound, and a massive thud which made them both turn around; apparently, the troll had stepped right on the Hellpuppy, completely snuffing out its flames.

"Quick, just run," Harry whispered to her. She nodded frantically, and they both made to run around it, but the troll blocked their path, bringing it down on the floor in front of them.

Harry was just figuring out what to do next when a new voice shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The club suddenly rose in the air, and as it hung there for a moment, the troll looked up at it, stupefied. The next moment, it came down, hitting the troll in the face and rolling down its chest, hitting its gut.

As the troll keeled over on the floor, moaning and groaning in pain, Ron came into view as he walked around it. "I think I got it," he said with a goofy smile on his face.

But a moment later, the troll was getting up again. Even more enraged, its big hand shot out and grabbed Harry. Hermione screamed in terror while Ron shouted "Harry!" Harry squirmed as he tried to get out of its grip, and the troll held him up to its face, almost as if studying him; the next moment, it simply threw the boy over his shoulder.

Harry was momentarily disoriented by what the troll just did, but desperate to make sure he didn't end up flying against a wall or something, he grabbed the giant's ear, and from there, tried to hang onto its neck. The giant made a few clumsy moves to try and swat the boy off of him, but it didn't work, so then the giant began to pick up speed – it was running!

Harry had to duck his head as it ran out of the girls' bathroom. He now had a new plan, one which involved not running into any walls. By shooting red sparks out from the tip of his wand to one side of the troll's head or the other, he somehow managed to guide it up the stairs until it was no longer in the dungeons; however, while going down a hallway, Harry happened to pass Professor McGonagall on one side, whose eyes were open and whose mouth was agape at what she was seeing.

"Sorry, Professor!" he called out to her as he passed by on the troll. He had a feeling that he was in for it later. But in the meantime…

Soon enough, Harry had maneuvered it through the halls, and finally, out through the main doors of the castle, which were easily big enough for the troll and the boy on its back to run through. An idea suddenly forming in his head, he made the troll turn towards the lake, making it run down that way. However, as the troll got to the water's edge, it suddenly tripped and buckled in the soft ground. As a result, Harry was thrown from its back and some feet away; he landed awkwardly on his legs, and as he felt pain shoot up through his body, he began to have a nasty feeling about just what might have happened to him. He also then realized that his glasses had gone flying off his face, and could be lying around anywhere. The only light he could see now was this big swathe of light which had to be Hogwarts itself. Some distance away, he could hear the troll thrashing in the water, its yells soon replaced by a bubbling sound.

As Harry lay there, cringing and trying to stifle his urge to scream out in pain, he heard something else from the lake… but it didn't sound like the troll. It sounded like something else altogether. As it got even closer to him, he thought it remotely smelled like fish.

Harry recoiled as it touched him with wet and possibly slimy hands, and he yelled in pain as it inspected his wound. After a moment, it withdrew, and with a wave of its hands, it proclaimed something in a guttural voice, something the likes of which Harry had never heard before in a language which he couldn't recognize. A small stream of light meandered down from the newcomer's open palm and onto Harry's legs, and within a minute, the pain was gone. With another incantation in that same unfamiliar language, his glasses gently flew into his hands.

Taking a moment to calm himself (during which time he thought he heard at splashing noise at the water's surface), Harry said "Thanks" to whoever it was, and put his glasses back on so he could try to see whoever it was… but whoever it was who helped him was now gone.

"Okay," he slowly said to himself. Deciding that there was nothing else to do here, he made his way back to the castle.

It turned out that Professor McGonagall was already waiting at the front doors. In Harry's honest opinion, she had this look on her face as though she was suppressing the need to scream. Instead, she kept herself composed, and calmly asked him, "May I ask what happened, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, you see, Professor McGonagall," Harry began, "on my way back to Gryffindor Tower with the others, I realized that Hermione didn't know about the troll. So, I told Ron what I was doing and went to warn her, but by that time the troll was already there. Ron used a Levitating Charm with the club's troll to slow it down, and as I tried to help Hermione get out of there, the troll grabbed me and tried to throw me aside. I somehow ended up on its back, so then it ran out the castle with me, and I drove it down towards the lake, just to get it away from the castle." Then as an afterthought, he added, "I think it might have drowned."

McGonagall took this all in, and finally said, "Very well. Are you hurt in any way?"

"No, I'm fine, Professor."

"Good," Professor McGonagall said. "Well, between how you and Mr. Weasley disobeyed orders and yet still rescued Miss Granger, I will neither punish nor reward you. I suggest the three of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where the Halloween feast is being continued." It was then that Harry noticed for the first time Ron and Hermione standing off to the side.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely. With that, he left with his two classmates for Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

The Darkness watched from a distance as the Oannes healed the young student. There was something about that boy which made him stand out under his senses.

Of course the Darkness knew about how this boy was legendary for vanquishing the most recent Dark Lord in this part of the world – when he was only an infant, no less. There was that scar in the shape of a lightning bolt, after all.

Even now, the Darkness was not sure if Harry Potter could be recruited to the cause, or if he would have to be destroyed. But either way, he would have to be tested first.

Perhaps there was something useful back in its lair which the Darkness could use…

The Darkness purposely did not go farther, onto the school grounds, as someone or even something might then notice its presence. So after the Oannes and the young wizard left and went their separate ways, the Darkness departed as well.

* * *

For the duration of the entire walk back up to Gryffindor Tower, none of them spoke. This was just as well, as Harry was taking the time to think about what he should do now with his two fellow Gryffindors.

To himself, Harry realized that just because they had their own problems, that did not make them bad people. He also had his own problems, to be sure. He knew that if he continued this way, becoming disappointed and frustrated by other people's faults whenever they came to the surface, then he would eventually have no one which could be considered a "friend."

Their problems aside, Ron and Hermione really did appear to be nice deep down. Harry figured that he didn't necessarily have to be friends with them, but simply getting along with them would be better than fighting with them.

Subconsciously, Harry came to a stop as he thought about something which he wanted to say. The other two Gryffindors went a few extra paces before they realized that Harry was standing behind them at a stop, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," he said, before either of them could say anything. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously before he looked up at them and elaborated, "I'm sorry if I wasn't very patient or understanding with either of you."

It looked as though Harry's words broke the ice, so to speak. The next thing he knew, Hermione was saying to both him and Ron, "I'm sorry I annoyed both of you."

There was an awkward pause while both Harry and Hermione looked to Ron if he had anything to say, and so he finally said something. To Harry he said, "I'm sorry I got carried away with all that stuff about House pride…" and then he turned to Hermione… "and I'm sorry I said things like that when I thought you weren't around… well, at all."

As Harry started walking again, the other two Gryffindors picked up the pace behind him. "Actually," Hermione spoke up as they walked together, "I also wanted to thank the both of you for saving me from that troll."

Harry said "You're welcome," but Ron then said, "Well, I suppose you can repay me by helping me with my homework…"

Harry didn't know why he did it, but he smiled, unseen by either of them.

The three of them got along well for the rest of the evening as they ate together with the rest of their House, and Harry didn't know if these other two fellow classmates would eventually be friends or if they would just remain classmates, but at the moment, it felt good just to simply get along with them.

* * *

The next day, Harry happened to be sitting alone at a table in the common room, thinking about whatever it was which he would think about. The next thing he knew, Hermione was sitting down across from him, clutching her own unfinished homework.

"Oh, hi, Harry," she said cheerfully.

"Hi," he replied. "Got much to do?"

"No, not much at all."

As she sat down, Harry had a feeling that something was wrong, and that Hermione wanted to talk about something.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked her. "Something aside from homework, that is."

Hermione looked up nervously at him as she tried to think of something to say. "Well… about the other day, when you got mad at me…"

Harry inwardly groaned. Outwardly, he remained calm and said to her, "Look, I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to sound rude…"

"I know, Harry, I know," she reassured him.

"I think part of it was I had already argued with Ron just before you came along, and so I had less patience by that point. All those giggling girls nearby overhearing it didn't help, either."

"I understand. But, if you don't mind me asking… well, I know you said you had someone constantly bullying you, making sure you didn't have any friends. Was that true?"

Harry took a moment to collect himself, as well as to look around before answering. "It was true, Hermione. I constantly had to deal with this bully at school whom everyone feared. His parents did nothing about it… in fact, I think they actually encouraged him at times. No one did anything about it… but with just how mean this boy and his parents were, I guess I don't blame them."

After a pause, Harry continued, "I guess I thought that just because he wouldn't be around to constantly stop me from making friends, that making friends would be so much easier."

Hermione simply nodded in understanding.

"I think part of the reason I preferred books was because books don't typically think of ways to make you miserable like people do," she said, offering some thoughts of her own.

"That's a good point," Harry responded.

"And I do understand about people nearby overhearing," Hermione added. "I really do. You didn't want rumors to fly."

"Precisely."

Both of them looked at each other for a moment or so, both of them trying to figure out what to say next.

"So… now what?" Hermione asked aloud with a trace of uncertainty.

"I dunno… this is all new and uncharted territory, isn't it?" Harry replied.

At that moment, Ron chose to come along, plunking his pile of homework down on the table between the two of them. Harry decided to take this as a blessing in disguise, because at least it managed to save both him and Hermione from any further awkwardness.

* * *

As the weather became colder, the first Quidditch match of the school year drew closer. So far, Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (including Ron) managed to keep the knowledge of their new Seeker and back-up player a secret. The rest of the school would be surprised at the Quidditch match.

Harry managed to feel better about the upcoming match now that he was getting along with Ron and Hermione better. He may not have been confiding in Hedwig as much as he used to, but the snowy owl was very happy for her master. In her honest opinion, this human fledgling needed some companionship with his own kind.

It was nice to simply get along with them, instead of constantly giving each other some space. Just for the three of them to do their homework together, for example, was a pleasant experience for Harry. Now that both Harry and Ron were part of the Quidditch team and Oliver Wood was making them do last-minute practice, Hermione was a considerable help with them getting their homework done. However, Hermione was not all about homework, as good at it as she was, and she occasionally found things for them to read just for enjoyment. Harry appreciated it when she lent him _Quidditch_ _Through the Ages_, which he found to be very interesting.

At the same time, Harry was still not ready enough to tell them about the portal or the Cerberus which he had encountered during his midnight escapade. Not long after the incident on Halloween, when Harry decided to go to the staffroom to ask Professor McGonagall something, he made a surprising discovery. After knocking on the door and receiving no answer, he decided just to push the door ajar and peer inside – only to find a horrible scene.

Snape and Filch were the only ones inside, with the Potions Master holding his robes up to his knees to treat his bloody and mangled leg with bandages from the caretaker. Harry could even hear what Snape was saying: "Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to close the door and depart without being noticed, but even while tending to his own personal injury, Snape was too quick to be fooled. "POTTER!"

Thinking fast, Harry decided to try for the truth. "I was just trying to find Professor McGonagall," he explained.

But with a furious look on his face, Snape would stand for none of it. "GET OUT! _OUT!_"

After Harry fled, he slowed his pace to a more sedate, normal walk after rounding a corner. The way Snape mentioned three heads… surely he had to be talking about the Cerberus. Thoughts began forming in Harry's head: What if Snape had tried to get past it on Halloween? Even more, what if he was the one to let the troll in? And probably the most important question of all – exactly what was that three-headed dog guarding? Or the scorpion people, for that matter?

* * *

The next morning, when the entire school was looking forward to the Quidditch match, Harry ate his breakfast, but he did it to build up his strength, because he was so apprehensive about the impending sporting event that it was as if the food's flavor had vanished.

Harry did his best to push his thoughts about the Cerberus and Snape from his mind, and something in the mail came which helped him do that: A letter from Pim. After feeding Hedwig a piece of toast as a reward for her services, Harry eagerly read the letter.

_Harry,_

_Do not worry if you cannot write to me as much as you would like. I understand perfectly about school._

_I also wanted to wish you good luck with your first Quidditch match._

_Sincerely,_

_Pim_

Harry appreciated it, and thinking about Pim helped him considerably.

* * *

It took a lot of energy these days, more than ever before, but the Darkness finally returned back to its abode. She had to admit, though, that for what she had in mind, it was worth it.

That object which Oannes had kept from her was the key, or at least the first step, to coming back from this zone of near-death and back into the realm of the completely living. She could almost taste it now…

Unlike Pim, who had mainly stayed around the Mediterranean, this Darkness had gone a lot further, exploring every habitable continent and island where humans may have been, and even a few where there weren't any at all.

And the Darkness had subtly left her mark wherever she went, being worshipped as a goddess… especially as a dark goddess.

The ancient Egyptians knew her as Sekhmet, the evil lion goddess. In ancient Greece, she had masqueraded as both Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft whose temples no one looked at directly, and Eris, the goddess of strife, whose Golden Apple had ultimately led to the conflict of the Trojan War. To the ancient Hindus, she was Kali, Nirrti and Durga. The Norsemen knew her as Hel, queen of the underworld. In ancient Mesopotamia, she was known as Lilith, mistress of owls. And that was only to name a few.

True, the Darkness could have impersonated any deity or being from myth and legend, but for some reason, the Darkness preferred those feared female personalities.

If it were physically possible, the Darkness would have smiled, especially at the thought of that last persona. What with events at Hogwarts, where the object was located, it would be a good opportunity to… _test_ Harry Potter. If he succeeded, then he would warrant more attention. If not, then his fate would be of little or no concern to her.

Yes, she thought to herself, things would come together soon enough…

She would not be held back for long!

* * *

At eleven o' clock, the entire school was out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch, or so it seemed. Inside, Harry and Ron were changing with the rest of the team, and after they were ready in their scarlet uniforms, Wood gave them a speech before finally going out there with his team.

Because Ron was now a replacement Keeper, he went off to the sidelines to wait there in case he was needed, but he did so with pride. Meanwhile, the twins' friend Lee Jordan was announcing the names of all the different players, both Slytherin and Gryffindor. When Harry's name was announced, and with quite a flourish, everyone gasped in shock, but the Gryffindors soon cheered and applauded, with their enthusiasm sounding like a rushing, oncoming storm.

Madame Hooch got things started quickly enough. After the captains of their respective teams shook hands as a formality, they mounted their brooms, and with the shriek of her whistle, they were off.

Lee Jordan provided the running commentary for the match, with Professor McGongall nearby, making sure that Lee wasn't being biased. Harry only listened to bits and pieces of Lee's acute observations as he watched the rest of the match while looking for the Snitch at the same time.

Just after Angelina had scored, Hermione heard a voice behind her: "Budge up there, move along."

She turned around to see Hagrid. "Hagrid! Hi, it's nice to see you."

"I decided to watch the match from the stands itself rather than from my hut with binoculars," Hagrid said by way of explanation. "So, what's goin' on?"

"Well, Gryffindor just scored the first goal, Ron hasn't had to replace anyone yet, and Harry hasn't seen the Snitch yet, so neither of them have had much to do."

"They seem to be doin' well so far," Hagrid said.

"Hagrid," she said a little nervously, "I'm a little worried. What if either or both of them get hurt?"

"I'm sure Professor McGonagall wouldn't have made 'em do this if she thought they were gonna get hurt," Hagrid said reassuringly.

In the meantime, Harry was looking around for the Snitch while keeping out of harm's way at the same time; after all, when it came to going after players from the other team, he was fair game. So, he just kept weaving through the game itself, trying to avoid Bludgers and other players, friend and enemy alike. Once or twice he thought he saw a flash of gold, but it turned out not to be the case.

Suddenly, though, Lee's voice rose even further in excitement: "They've seen the Snitch!" Both Harry and Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, hurtled towards it; they were neck and neck, and even the other players on both teams were watching, as if they had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

Maybe it was his size, maybe it was his broom, maybe it was his talent, maybe it was something else altogether, but Harry was faster than Higgs. He was nearly at the Snitch when suddenly –

WHAM! Flint had blocked him, sending Harry's broom spinning out of control as he hung on for dear life. The Gryffindors all screamed in outrage, and by the time Harry had recovered, the Snitch was gone. In the stands, Hermione was panicking while Dean was shouting that there should be a red card for this sort of thing in Quidditch like in football. Professor McGonagall had to seriously warn Lee to stop his ranting about how disgusting and revolting the whole thing was. So, after Gryffindor got a free shot and scored another goal, the game resumed as normal.

Well, at least it resumed for a little while, before something happened to Wood. He had been so busy trying to give his team directions across the Quidditch pitch from his spot near the goalposts that he didn't notice a Bludger coming his way. It hit him square in the gut, completely knocking the wind out of him. Madame Hooch called a time-out while the rest of the team helped him get to the ground, where he could recover his breath.

Even after he could breathe normally again, it still hurt a little; he must have cracked a rib or so. He insisted that he was fine, but Madame Hooch wouldn't take any chances. Thus, Ron was called in to replace Wood. He looked nervous, but the comforting thoughts of this match possibly becoming his start to being a Quidditch star helped make him braver. However, when no one else could see or hear them, Ron quickly whispered to Harry, "Find the Snitch, and fast."

So the match resumed, and Harry was now more determined than before to find the Snitch. However, even as he flew around on his broom, looking for it again, there was now a new problem.

It all started when his broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. At first, Harry thought nothing of it, but then it had happened again mere moments later. In fact, Harry was just about to try and ask for a time-out when he suddenly and completely lost control of his broom. It made all kinds of powerful, violent movements to throw Harry off altogether, but Harry was determined to hang in there.

Meanwhile, Ron was doing surprisingly well. The first time Flint came speeding towards him with the Quaffle, Ron actually managed to block it. He even blocked the one after that! If he hadn't been so focused on the game and making sure he didn't get hurt, Ron would have noticed the problems which Harry was having with his broom…

However, in the stands, Hagrid noticed it, and as he looked towards Harry through his binoculars, he was mumbling to himself, trying to figure out what was going on. A few moments later, plenty of other people had noticed it too, once the broom had thrown Harry off so forcefully that he was now hanging onto it with only one hand.

As Hermione was looking around, panicking and trying to figure out what to do, she noticed someone else who was also observing the scary spectacle, but not looking at all worried: Snape. He was looking directly at Harry, his eyes unblinking, as well as muttering something to himself. As if he was performing a jinx…

Hermione maneuvered her way through the stands to get close to Snape, making up a plan in her mind as she went along, trying to figure out how to stop Snape from doing whatever it was he was doing.

Meanwhile, Fred and George were trying to fly up to rescue Harry from his predicament while Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Ron tried to continue the game so that the Slytherins couldn't take advantage of the situation. The three Gryffindor Chasers were doing their best not to get pummeled by the Slytherin team or the Bludgers, and Ron was only able to block about half of the shots which Flint and the other Slytherin Chasers were making. Harry himself was determined not to let himself get hurt or killed by this.

Back in the stands, Hermione was near Snape, and while she had a plan in mind, she was unsure whether to do it or not. She could use that blue fire of hers to set the hem of Snape's robes on fire, thereby distracting him… but even in this time of urgency, even as she was knocking Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front without stopping to apologize for it, Hermione could not bring herself to set one of her own professors on fire. But she had another idea…

Rummaging through her pockets and finding a big piece of scrap parchment, Hermione instead set that on fire with that spell, using a tricky levitation spell to make it fly around in front of Snape's face.

Within a minute, it worked: Snape was trying to brush the burning cinder away with one hand without getting himself burned and trying to get out his wand with the other hand. Once she saw that Snape was sufficiently distracted with the annoying scrap of flaming parchment, and that Harry's broom was no longer trying to throw him off, she was convinced of her success and fled from the scene before Snape could see her.

Back up in the air, Harry immediately seized the opportunity to take control of the situation again, once his broom had stopped trying to throw him off altogether. Now mounted properly on his broom again, he was determined to finish this game. And out the corner of his eye, he saw just the thing to let him do that…

The crowd saw him speeding down towards the ground, and then clap his hand to his mouth was though he was going to be sick, but then he hit the ground on all fours, coughed, and had something gold fall into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted as he waved it above his head, and so amongst all the confusion (and even some ranting from Flint about it), Madame Hooch declared Gryffindor to be the winner.

Harry turned the Snitch over to Madame Hooch, and was about ready to join the rest of his team in celebration when, all of a sudden, a loud shrieking noise rent the air.

Everyone turned to see some fearsome-looking owls heading their way. There was one big, black owl, about the size of a Bludger, and several smaller, gray owls, each the size of a Snitch. They all shrieked horribly, making people wince and even hold their hands against their ears.

They were all heading towards Harry… and they didn't look too friendly.

Sensing danger, Harry immediately leapt back onto his broom and took off, trying to put as much distance between himself and these fearsome birds as possible. He could just tell that he was their target, and since that was the case, he didn't want anyone else to get in the way.

As he was trying to get away, Professor Dumbledore tried to stop them. With what looked like a bright, golden wave of light, most of the owls limped and fell out of the sky – but the big owl, its feathers as black as night – flew the fastest of them all, seemingly unaffected by it, and continued flying towards its target.

Harry sped off out of the Quidditch stadium, and thinking fast, he chose the direction of the Forbidden Forest. What he had in mind could very well get himself seriously injured or even killed, but he had to think of something to get rid of this hostile owl.

As Harry skimmed the tops of trees, he aimed his wand behind him and shouted the incantation for the Net Hex at the owl. "_Rete!"_

Without slowing down, Harry turned to see the aggressive owl get bundled up in a strong, study net, causing it to plummet into the forest canopy, and by the sound of it, hitting a tree or two on the way down.

Finally slowing down, Harry carefully peered through the branches and leaves of trees to see what was happening – he could already hear the black-feathered owl screeching and shrieking in anger. Maybe this was dangerous, but he just had to make sure…

But then with a sudden ripping sound, the owl broke free of its bindings and shot up through the forest canopy. Taking a quick look from where it had emerged, Harry could see that the smaller branches looked like their ends had been sliced off where its wings had made contact with them.

Quickly realizing that he was dealing with a bird endowed with razor-sharp wings, he began to try and think of a new plan as he sped off and the chase continued.

As Harry continued to try and think of some spell which he knew which would be of any use, he took a mad gamble and dove into the Forbidden Forest, weaving his way around trees at breakneck speeds. However, the black owl, now angrier than before, kept after its quarry, intent on doing whatever it intended to do, which couldn't be good for Harry.

As Harry realized that he had very few if any good ideas left, he decided maybe he should fly back towards Hogwarts, and see if Professor Dumbledore or any of the other teachers could do anything to stop this mad owl. But in the meantime, something did occur to him…

"_Ignis!"_ he shouted as he pointed his wand over his shoulder and at the evil owl. A randomly-shaped burst of fire flew from it and into the owl's path… but the owl flew right through it, with no obvious signs of any damage from the fire itself. But if Harry's plan would work, then he had to try…

"_Ignis!"_ he kept shouting over and over again. "_Ignis! Ignis!"_

And once the black owl was sufficiently heated up, Harry tried the other half of his plan. "_Thalij!"_ he shouted this time, causing a cloud of snow to appear in the owl's path. "_Thalij! Thalij!"_

He remembered from his basic science courses a few years ago how heat causes things to expand and cold causes things to contract, and so by suddenly heating it and then freezing it, maybe he could cause it damage somehow.

As Harry and his pursuer reached the lake, the effects of simple science began to take its effect on the magical creature. There were small hissing sounds and steam coming off of the owl's feathers, leaving a thin trail of vapor behind it. Finally, the owl's wings and plumage gave out: Its thin, sharp, metal-like feathers cracked and broke off, much to the owl's despair. With one last hoot, it dropped like a stone, plummeting into the lake.

_That's the second time I've gotten rid of something by using the lake,_ Harry mused to himself as he realized that fact.

Harry just hovered there for a moment or two, thinking about what had just happened. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and carefully collected one of the jet-black feathers as it slowly floated down. He observed it for a moment before carefully pocketing it, keeping it as a souvenir of sorts.

Internally, he was remembering things which Pim had taught him about certain creatures and how they were viewed in various ancient cultures. He wondered how many people would be surprised to know that, with a few exceptions, ancient cultures generally feared owls. Much of this had to do with the owls' appearance, screeching calls and nocturnal activities.

There were few examples of owls being seen in positive ways, the best example of which being the owl as the mascot of Athena, the ancient Greek goddess of wisdom. However, in many other cultures, they were seen as monsters or harbingers of doom; the ancient Romans, for example, believed in a kind of owl-like monster which fed on blood, like some of kind of vampire. And yet, even in other cultures, such as Japan, owls were seen as either good or evil, depending on their breed.

Once Harry was sure that he was fine, he flew back towards the Quidditch pitch. Upon returning to it, he saw that the stands were empty, but the professors were standing in the middle of the pitch, gathered around. As he approached, Professor Dumbledore looked up and saw him.

"Mr. Potter!" the headmaster called up to the young wizard. "Are you unhurt?"

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry said, a little tiredly; now he could relax.

"Well, I do not know what that was all about, but I can assure you that I will look into this matter, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "Where is everyone?"

"I ordered them all to leave the Quidditch pitch while we investigated these strange owls. Speaking of which… where is that black owl which chased you?"

"It fell into the lake," Harry said with a shrug. He would have gone into more detail, but he didn't want to give away what kind of spells he knew… just in case, of course.

"Well, at least you managed to get rid of it. We shall see if we can recover it later, if something in the lake hasn't eaten it first. In the meantime, though, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are in Hagrid's hut; I believe they had quite a scare during the Quidditch match."

So, after Harry changed out of his Quidditch uniform and back into his usual clothes, he went over to Hagrid's hut. He opened the door to find Hagrid comforting a worried-looking Ron and a distressed-looking Hermione.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed excitedly when she saw him, jumping out of her seat and rushing over to hug him.

"I'm fine, Hermione, really," he said gently as he tried to extricate himself from her grip.

"We were worried," Ron said. "Especially with those owls showing up like that…"

"But even before that with the brooms," Hermione added. "You wouldn't believe who we saw focusing on your broom as it was acting like that."

Ron explained how it had to have been Snape, because of how both he and Hermione saw the Potions Master cursing the broomstick by muttering something. However, Hagrid dismissed it as "rubbish," asking why Snape would want to do such a thing.

Deep down, Harry was wondering if he should mention certain things about the third floor corridor.

"Hagrid," he said at last, "on Halloween night, when that troll got in somehow… as I was looking for Hermione, I saw Snape sneaking off in the direction of the third floor corridor. And when I saw him again, he was limping… as if something had attacked him."

Hagrid looked a little nervous, and both Ron and Hermione looked as though they knew that Harry was hiding something from them. However, right now, Harry was getting a little tired of having to dance around the subject, depending on who was around to hear him, so he just decided to be more direct.

"Hagrid, I know about the Cerberus," he said at last.

Hagrid nearly dropped the teapot in shock, and his two fellow Gryffindors looked equally shocked themselves. Ron must have known about the beast as someone raised in the wizarding world, and Hermione, like Harry, must have known about it from reading books on mythology.

"And I also know about those 'scorpion people' or whatever they're called who are guarding that other thing," Harry added, deciding to get it all out at once.

"Yeh know abou' Fluffy?" Hagrid asked in surprise.

"_Fluffy?"_ Harry asked incredulously. True, the dog's fur might have been fluffy, but still, it just sounded so ridiculous…

"Yeah, he's my dog, I bought him off a Greek chappie I met last year. I'm lendin' him to Dumbledore to guard the…"

Harry didn't say anything, but just let Hagrid talk so it could all come out, but Hagrid must have realized what he was doing, and so he shut himself up in time.

"No, I won't tell yeh what Fluffy's guardin'," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it, Hagrid," Harry pointed out. "In fact, just yesterday, when I was trying to see if Professor McGonagall was in the staff room, he was trying to dress this wound on his leg and muttering something about watching 'all three heads at once.'"

Hagrid looked at Harry, trying to think of something to say to defend Snape, but then Hermione spoke up: "And the fact that he tried to kill Harry doesn't help, either."

"Snape wouldn't try ter kill a student," Hagrid said flatly.

"I've read all about jinxes, Hagrid, and Snape was doing just that, because he wasn't blinking at all!"

"Look, listen ter me," Hagrid said a little forcefully. "Snape wouldn't do anythin' like that! He's a respectable college professor, and Headmaster Dumbledore trusts him. As for what Fluffy's guardin' – trust me on this, stay out of it, it doesn't concern any of yeh. Jus' forget abou' the dog and whatever it's guardin'. It's all between Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel –"

Before Harry even knew it, he was asking Hagrid, "Who's Nicholas Flamel?"

Hagrid just looked angry with himself.

* * *

Back in Gryffindor Tower, a celebration was taking place. Fred, George and Lee were letting loose some magical fireworks as they made sure that the food and snacks were passed around. As Harry helped himself to something called "butterbeer" (which he discovered that he liked), Ron and Hermione subtly approached him.

"Harry," Ron began, "about what you said earlier in Hagrid's hut…"

"How did you know about Fluffy?" Hermione anxiously concluded before Ron could finish what he was saying.

Harry looked back and forth between the both of them, and he could tell that neither of them were simply going to ignore or forget about what was going on. His first instinct was to simply refuse to talk about it, and keep it all to himself, but he doubted that such a thing could work.

Deep down, Harry knew that he was too used to keeping things secret and to himself. When he still lived with the Dursleys, he didn't tell them about what went on at school, and when he was at school, he didn't tell anyone about what went on at home. Ever since he started living at the Tower of Pim, neither he nor Pim bought up the topic of the Dursleys unless it was absolutely necessary. Even now, at Hogwarts, he didn't talk about either the Dursleys or Pim unless someone he couldn't ignore asked him about it (such as the Headmaster not so long ago).

"I promise I'll tell both of you about it," he told them. "But not right now… too many people around."

They could both sense the honesty and sincerity in his words. So with that, they came to an unspoken agreement to discuss it later at a better time.

Still, while he had the opportunity, he sat down at a nearby table, and with a sheet of lined paper and a pen (he just preferred using Muggle writing materials when writing to Pim), he wrote out a message to Pim.

_Pim,_

_The Quidditch match went well. We beat Slytherin with a score of 170 to 30. It was fun._

_I'm getting along better with some of my classmates. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are nice enough. I don't know who I'll eventually be friends with, but for now, getting along with a few people is fine._

_I only have less than a month until the winter holidays. How are things for you?_

_Sincerely,  
Harry_

Subconsciously, Harry neglected mentioning anything about his misbehaving broom or those evil owls.

* * *

A/N:So, how was this?

**Regarding the chapter title… it refers to both the troll being let in on Halloween and the attempts on Harry's life at the Quidditch match.**

How Harry dealt with the troll by maneuvering through the halls was inspired by how to beat the tree mini-boss by maneuvering it down a twisting alley in the game _The Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones._

Regarding the thing with Ron and Hermione… First of all, let me be the first to state that characterization is not my _forte_. That said, I wasn't trying to make Harry arrogant. The thing with Hermione assuming that Harry had the same problem as her… I wrote that because I've been in a similar situation before, where someone else assumed I had the same problem and them and then told everyone else that. (And NO, I did not write it that way to make people upset.)

I decided to make it so that Hermione didn't actually set Snape on fire, but rather distracted him with something on fire. (In retrospect, I'm kind of surprised… Hermione Granger setting one of her own professors on fire?)

As for the nondescript "Snow Hex" or whatever you want to call it… I read somewhere that _thalij_ was the Arabic word for "ice" or "snow," so I decided to use it. You know, just for something different from the Greek and Latin words.

Especially with the last scene, I tried to show how this version of Harry is somewhat happier and having less problems than canon-Harry, but all the same, he has trouble with opening up to people.

_You know what to do… review!_

–_**Quillian**_  
**(First posted: October 10, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)


	13. WHY MIRRORS WERE INVENTED

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** This covers the events of winter break, including the Mirror of Erised. (Also, I'm sorry, but I just had to keep the "Gred and Forge" line in there somehow! Not to mention Dumbledore's wisdom about "dwelling on dreams and forgetting to live.") Also, some details from Book 7 about Godric's Hollow are taken into account, particularly with the Potter and Dumbledore families.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, I realize how much I've been sticking with canon up to this point, and thank you for bearing with me. I've been looking forward to this chapter. (And if you think this isn't unique enough, just wait for the following chapters after this one!)

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Twelve, "The Mirror of Erised."**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE  
WHY MIRRORS WERE INVENTED**

"_Eureka!"_

So shouted a magical being named Pim, echoing Archimedes' own proclamation, which was Greek for "I have found it!"

"Yes, I managed it just enough so it will work!" Pim exclaimed to no one in particular, even though Galatea and the owls were bound to hear him. "Won't Harry be pleased to come home for the holiday?"

But now he had to let Harry know about it. Fortunately, he already had that part worked out.

Things had been going well so far with his antique business, constantly buying, selling and trading antiques of all kinds, both magical and Muggle, from the most ancient to the relatively modern. Pim even had a name for it: "Ancient History Antiques." In fact, he even had his own business cards, with his new name "William Verdediger" emblazoned on them. To top it all off, he even had a new insignia, one which represented himself (although maybe not necessarily his business).

Summoning a typewriter and a piece of paper, Pim began to write a message to Harry…

* * *

It was the Monday after the Quidditch match, and Harry was eating breakfast when a letter arrived.

"_Ancient History Antiques"?_ he wondered to himself as he looked at the Muggle envelope and letter in front of him. After giving Hedwig her complimentary piece of toast, Harry opened the envelope and unfolded the letter to read it.

On the top was an insignia: In a circle, a couple of dunes took up the lower third, each with a footprint on them. On either side, from the middle of the dunes at their highest points, slightly jagged lines marked off cliffs, and on both of those were what looked like handprints. In the remaining space in the middle of the insignia was the sun, with small rays coming off of it.

Taking his eyes away from the unique logo, Harry read the letter itself:

_Harry,_

_Business is great, and I'm buying, selling and trading antiques and relics all the time. But the best part of all is that I'll be around during the winter holiday, so you can come home then and we can spend it together._

_Sincerely,  
Pim_

Harry would write a short message back to Pim later, confirming that he got the news, but for now, happiness swelled inside of him, because he was going to see Pim again for the first time in months! Hogwarts was nice, but the prospect of returning to the first place he had ever considered home was almost overwhelming.

* * *

The Darkness was in its lair, thinking to itself.

Even with what it had at its disposal, it was obvious that these little tricks wouldn't work. It would have to wait longer to try something big to do what it needed to carry out.

How appropriate, the Darkness thought, that the middle of winter was approaching fast, with the nights at their longest. More time to do its dark deeds in the dark itself. How appropriate indeed.

* * *

Christmas was coming, and everybody knew it. With cold weather, shorter days and successions of snow showers as its harbingers, everyone was getting ready for it. The teachers made sure they finished certain course material and gave out the tests to prove their pupils' progress, while the students hunkered down and studied hard to complete this stage of the curriculum.

Harry was excited, because he was going back home for Christmas. Pim told him that it had all been worked out, so Harry could come home for the holiday and still be safe.

"So, what are you doing, Ron?" Harry asked him as they walked towards the Great Hall on their way from Potions class. "Going to spend Christmas with your family, too?"

"Nah, they're going to visit Charlie in Romania," Ron explained. "I've been there before." (Harry could tell that he wanted Gryffindor Tower to himself during the break when nearly everyone else would be gone.)

"Don't forget, Ron, we're staying too," Fred chimed in, with him and George appearing behind them.

"So don't worry," his twin added.

"I'm not worried," Ron grumbled, already put off by their chipper attitude.

"If anyone should be worried about the two of you staying here, I think it should be the teachers," Harry told the twins. "Somehow, I don't think Professor Quirrell will be forgetting about your snowballs anytime soon."

The twins snickered together; they had been enchanting snowballs to follow the nervous professor around bounce them off the back of his turban.

As they entered the Great Hall, they saw Hagrid moving giant Christmas trees around. Harry and Ron offered to help, but Hagrid assured them that he was fine.

Just then, Malfoy came along with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. "Trying to earn some extra money by helping Hagrid, Weasley? I can see why you'd want to, especially when your house most look terrible compared to Hagrid's hut."

Ron twitched, and Fred and George were ready to restrain Ron if they had to, but Harry had a different idea to avoid a potential fight.

"So, Ron," Harry said to him, "I keep forgetting to ask you, what's your favorite Quidditch team?"

It was a gamble, and fortunately, it paid off; in an instant, Ron's love for Quidditch overrode his desire to hurt Malfoy. And so, as Ron began rhapsodizing about a team called the Chudley Cannons, Harry and the twins led him away from where a trio of Slytherins stood there, baffled at seeing their plan to aggravate the Gryffindors fail. (Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could have sworn he saw Snape nearby, ready to take points from Gryffindor if the opportunity arose.)

After they were safely beyond the troublesome range of the likes of Malfoy or Snape, Ron was no longer thinking about Malfoy, and they met up with Hermione. As Harry began to talk to Ron and Hermione about their plans for the holidays and as Fred and George went off to look for their friend Lee, the three first-year Gryffindors were approached by Hagrid.

"So, how many days left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Oh, only one day left," Harry said casually. Then, a little more discretely, he added, "One day left to search through the library for anything about Nicholas Flamel."

If he were walking, Hagrid might have accidentally tripped and let off a small tremor. "What're yeh…? Look, Harry, it's nothin' which yeh should be worryin' abou'. I told yeh before, don' bother even thinkin' abou' it."

"Unless you want to tell us so we don't have to search for it," Hermione suggested, but Hagrid defiantly shook his head at that, his mane shaking back and forth.

"Well, I guess we'll continue having to find it ourselves, then," Ron muttered under his breath, for himself, Harry and Hermione to hear.

Without going into the Restricted Section, the three of them had been going through the library book by book, looking for anything about Flamel, especially after they realized that they were wasting time by just gaping at the sheer volume of information itself. When it came to historical records, Hermione tried to go through the most ancient records first, working her way forward through time, while Ron started with the most modern stuff and tried to work in the opposite direction; Harry either helped one of them or the other, or tried looking for anything in the middle between them.

Soon enough, the time came for students to go home during Christmas. All three of them agreed to continue looking for anything on Flamel when they had the chance from wherever they were. As Hermione's parents were Muggles, that might not have been much help, but Harry secretly knew that there just may have been something in Pim's own library about Flamel.

* * *

The next day, the three of them had breakfast together before Harry and Hermione had to catch the train in Hogsmeade. Ron saw them off as they got into one of the horseless carriages and went from the school down to Hogsmeade station. During the short trip in the carriage, Harry looked out the window at the winter landscape and kept thinking about Pim. It was going to be great to be back home for Christmas.

During the trip on the train, Harry made some small talk with Hermione and the other first-year Gryffindors. As time went on, Harry even began to make some small talk with the first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws on the train, and engaged in some conversations with them which were so interesting that Harry wished he had spoken to them sooner. At least there would be plenty of time to speak with them again after the holidays.

At the now-familiar Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, an elderly wizard let them off through the barrier a few at a time, so a stampede of schoolchildren coming out through a barrier wouldn't surprise the Muggles. Harry, Hermione and Neville went through together, and on the other side, Neville saw his grandmother almost right away.

"Neville, there you are!" she exclaimed. She didn't sound particularly welcoming, but nor did she sound hostile; in Harry's own opinion, she just had this attitude which was about as cold as the air around them. "And who are your friends?"

"Well, Grandmother," Neville said a little nervously, "this is Hermione Granger… and this is Harry Potter."

Much to the relief of Harry, who was a little afraid of being gawked at, Mrs. Longbottom looked only a little surprised. "Well, Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks, you too," Harry said, not sure quite what to say.

"And you too, Miss Granger," Mrs. Longbottom added as she shook Hermione's hand. "Neville has told me that you have helped him quite a bit in your classes together."

Hermione may have turned a little red – Harry really wasn't sure – but she just said, "Oh, it's nothing, really."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw what appeared to be an elderly man whose hood covered his head, adjusting his cloak. But on that cloak was a brooch of sorts… and it looked like Pim's logo for his antiques business…

Thinking fast, Harry calmly told the others, "I'm going to go look for my ride, but I'll see you again after Christmas, okay?"

After they all bade each other farewell, Harry moved towards the man with Pim's logo. He was unable to see the man's face from underneath it, but the man slowly and gently offered Harry a folded piece of paper, nodding encouragingly. Harry gratefully accepted it and read it.

_Harry, the man who has just given you this note is none other than myself, your caring guardian Pim. I have been looking for ways to not only give myself more power for my tower, but to also give myself a new body so I can go beyond its borders. Underneath this cloak is a statue body like Galatea's, except I control this statue as if it were my own body. It is only a temporary solution, but it will do for now. Just don't panic if my hands feel icy cold. When you're done reading this note, simply hand it back to me._

Harry nodded and handed the note back. With a simple gesture, Pim beckoned Harry to follow him, and so he did. Once they were in a nice, deserted alley in London, not too far from King's Cross itself, a Luclar appeared and whisked them away back to the Tower of Pim.

* * *

Back home in that valley in Wales, where the Tower of Pim stood, Harry wasted no time in celebrating his reunion with Pim. True, he could have spent even a little time researching Flamel, but he was just too caught up with being back home and reunited with Pim to think about that. In fact, one of the first things he did was see Pim's new business, "Ancient History Antiques."

Pim may have moved around and stayed mostly around the Mediterranean for reasons of his own (perhaps it was just preference), and so he got the most exposure to civilizations like those of Egypt, Greece and Rome, but he certainly went well beyond those realms. As he told Harry, "I have traveled as far north as Thule and Rus, as far south as the land of the Maasai in Africa, as far east as India and China, and as far west as the land of the Celts in Europe."

Harry did a lot over those next few days, and with Pim's new body (a stone body like Galatea's, which he would use for the time being until he could create a better body for himself), they could do a lot more than before.

On Harry's first day back, after lunch, Pim had something for Harry. "I was going to give you this on Christmas day, but I think it might come in handy sooner," Pim said, and with that, he presented what appeared to be a cape, like those worn by soldiers in times of antiquity, except this was gray as opposed to the red which soldiers back then often wore. As he unfolded it, Harry could see that it also had a cowl to protect his head, and there was a golden brooch to keep the cowl together, which bore Pim's own insignia.

"I don't have a specific kind of name for the cloak – although different people have come up with different names for this kind through history," Pim explained, "but it's supposed to keep you warm when it's cold, and cool when it's hot. It's also supposed to protect you from various kinds of physical damage, such as a beast's claws or knife's blade, but be careful, for it works best that way if the threat is non-magical and if you are not attacked continuously."

So, Harry graciously accepted the gray cloak and tried it on, and as he observed himself in a mirror, Pim added, "I can also tailor it year after year to still make it fit you as you grow up."

"Thanks, Pim. I'm sure I'll like this."

"Splendid. In which case, what do you say we test it outside? It's also ideal for hunting."

And so, the first day and night back at home, Harry was led by Pim through the snow-blanketed hills of the valley, being shown how to hunt (not for sport, but more for survival skills, should the occasion ever arise). With his new cloak, he blended in astonishingly well. Harry used his reflexes to hit his prey with magical non-fatal arrows whose ends turned red to indicate that they had successfully hit a target, and were enchanted so that their sharp ends would be perfectly harmless without sacrificing their aerodynamic properties. Even Hedwig tagged along on the trip, occasionally using her flight and vision to subtly aid Harry as he looked for his prey, but mostly just nestling herself in the snow and enjoying herself, watching her master learn how to hunt. During the entire experience, Harry marveled at how his new cloak kept him warm and comfortable.

When they came back sometime past midnight, Pim commented, "Well, Harry, I really am quite impressed. With another year or so of practice, you should be entirely able to survive on your own."

"Thanks again," Harry said, shaking some snowflakes out of his messy hair.

However, before he went to sleep, he sat in his bed, thinking to himself, and Pim noticed this.

"Something on your mind?" his guardian asked as he unobtrusively made his avatar visible.

"Yes, actually," Harry said. "I'm getting along with a couple of people who I think might be friends… but the thing is, I really have nothing to compare it to." After a beat, he then added, "And whether or not I know them well enough so that I should give them something for Christmas."

Pim was momentarily silent as he thought about Harry's words. If he could, Pim generally avoided making friends, let alone getting close to anyone at all, only so they would die and crumble into ashes and dust while he himself lived on indefinitely, so he knew he was not the best expert on the subject of friendship. If anything, whatever wisdom which he might have had about friendship came from what others said or wrote on the subject.

"Well," Pim began, trying to help his ward, "do you like being with them?"

"Yeah."

"Do you get along with them well enough?"

"Yeah."

"Then they might be ideal friends for you. Admittedly, the science of friendship is a field which even I am not entirely knowledgeable about. And as for gifts… I can help you there, because I undoubtedly have plenty of old things which might be appropriate for them."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Pim."

"Anytime. Good night, Harry."

* * *

The next morning, Harry was flipping idly through his copy of _A History of Magic_by Bathilda Bagshot when he noticed something. Stopping his idle flipping, he turned back a few pages to read something about a place called Godric's Hollow. Interested, he read it, and was also more interested when he found out that the founder of his House, Godric Gryffindor, was born there (hence the name, obviously).

_Godric's Hollow…_ why did that sound so familiar to him?

As if to answer his unspoken question, a memory came floating back up from the depths of his long-term memory. Hagrid told him about how his parents were hiding in Godric's Hollow when Voldemort found and attacked them.

Even if they were gone… could something have been left there even after all these years?

Harry distractedly called "Pim!" and a moment later, Pim was there. "Yes, Harry?"

"I just found something… this place, Godric's Hollow, it's where Voldemort attacked my family. There might still be something there…"

"So you would like to visit this village, see what there is?" Pim summed up for him.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Very well, why don't we go now? Get your cloak and we'll go."

Harry was up in a flash. Minutes later, Harry was all dressed and ready to go, clad in winter Muggle clothes and boots. He met up with Pim, whose statue body was now magically enchanted to look perfectly human.

With the help of a couple of Luclars, they were gone from the tower and now standing on the edge of the village known as Godric's Hollow.

Harry and Pim walked through Godric's Hollow together, looking just like any other parent and child on a winter day, especially within those last few days before Christmas. They walked through the village, which looked picture-perfect for the holiday occasion. They stood together for a moment as they gazed upon the small square at the heart of the village, with its war memorial in the middle (which was at the moment partially obscured by a Christmas tree), several shops, a post office, a pub, and a beautiful little church. And throughout the entire square, people were scurrying about, going about their business as quickly as they could without slipping or falling on the ground.

"Your parents might be buried here," Pim said, "so we might be able to find them in the graveyard. Shall we find out?"

"Yeah," Harry said, although a little distractedly, because only now the gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in: He could be visiting what were his parents' graves.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the obelisk of a war memorial become a statue of a father, mother, and their infant son. In fact, once he and Pim entered the graveyard and started walking down the rows of tombstones, he didn't notice the name "DUMBLEDORE" on any of them either.

Some minutes later, Pim said aloud, "Harry… I think I found them."

Harry stopped automatically, and turned to what Pim was indicating. It was his parents' grave. Made of white marble and easy to read, Harry was almost afraid to touch it, because it was so important to him. Side by side were the names and dates of his father and his mother. James Potter was born on March 27, 1960, while Lily Potter was born on January 30, 1960, but both of them shared the same date of death, which was October 31, 1981. But even under their names, there was something else – an epitaph, which read: _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

As Harry read and reread the epitaph, he contemplated it, and eventually thought about Pim and his own condition of "living" if it could be called that (after all, Pim's situation was unprecedented, as far as anyone knew).

Harry knelt there for a few minutes, silent but contemplating the site of his parents' graves in front of him. He felt as though he ought to say something, but nothing came to mind. What could or should be said? Would the appropriate people even hear it?

As Harry thought about what it might have been like to live with them, Pim had to wonder just what Harry's parents were like. As far as he could remember, he had rarely had any student whose parents he did not meet. Pim had to admit to himself that it would certainly make for an interesting conversation just to speak to this boy's parents.

After they spent some minutes there, lost in thought, they finally left. Just in case anyone may have been watching them, Pim and Harry walked out of the graveyard, through the town square, and onto a deserted road lined with trees. After they turned off the road itself and through some trees, they returned to their home via Luclar.

* * *

For the remaining days before Christmas, Harry had fun at the Tower of Pim. He would give himself several minutes each day merely to look over some course material, just to make sure he knew and remembered it when he eventually went back to school after the holidays. After that, he would go outside and simply enjoy playing in the snow.

This was still his first year in which he had Hedwig, and she enjoyed her first winter with her new master. Being a snowy owl, she was naturally in her element as she enjoyed what Snowdonia had to offer this time of year. With Pim's permission to leave the tower on his own, Harry would even come along with Hedwig, just to watch her hunt in her element as she gracefully flew and hunted and captured her prey. In fact, Harry could have sworn that he once heard Pim telling Hedwig to "watch out for him" and a responding dutiful hoot from Hedwig herself.

At times, Harry felt a little guilty about not writing to his friends, but then again, he thought to himself, it would take quite a while for them to go back and forth, and they were probably having just as much as much fun as he was, or at least being as busy.

At least Harry was finding something to give to his friends for Christmas. With Pim's help, Harry managed to find some things for Ron and Hermione which were not too expensive but were still useful. For Ron, who highly valued whatever possessions he had, Harry chose a small statuette of a dog called a Trunkdog, which could be put in a person's trunk and guard it. For Hermione, who cherished the written word, Harry chose a small lamp which could find certain words in a text by feeding it the desired words on a piece of parchment or paper, and then the light from the lamp would act as a beacon in finding the desired words in the text itself.

However, two days before Christmas, Harry's plans for the holiday and the entire winter break would abruptly change.

It all started when Pim started showing off some of the new valuables which he had collected with his new business. Some were magical, some were mundane, and most of them had already been looked over by Pim himself. Harry decided to take a closer look at one of them.

It was a tall, magnificent mirror with clawed feet; however, its ornate onyx frame gave off a small, somewhat sinister air about it. There was an inscription around the top:_Raef stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

_Odd,_ Harry thought to himself. It was certainly no language which he had ever seen before… or was it a code of some sort? Either way, he decided to take a look in the mirror, figuring that it couldn't hurt. How wrong he would be.

The first thing Harry saw was an image of his parents' graves, just as how he had seen them days before at the cemetery in Godric's Hollow. Except now, the dirt over the graves was vanishing, to reveal their coffins. The coffins were now becoming damaged and cracked, as if they were being defiled by an invisible, unseen force. The coffins shook violently, and for a moment, maybe they would suddenly burst open, revealing his parents' remains – but then with a flash of fiery light, the ground beneath them disintegrated, and so they fell into a fiery pit which consumed them, taking all trace of the Potters with them. Then there was the house which Voldemort had attacked –

– Which suddenly turned into the Tower of Pim, standing defiantly against a dark and destructive storm, but then collapsing, level by level, from the top down, until only a huge pile of bricks and rubble stood in its place –

– Which suddenly shifted to Harry himself, searching desperately for any trace of any family he might have had, be they his biological parents, Pim, or anyone otherwise, when there was a sudden, blinding flash of bright green light, accompanied by a high, cold, and cruel laugh…

Harry finally snapped out of it and realized he could do something about it. "NO!" he shouted, making to push the mirror away – but that proved to be another mistake in itself. As soon as he made contact with the mirror itself, he quickly felt an excruciating pain which ran up from his very fingertips to the rest of his body. It felt maybe like an insect sting, or maybe an electrical shock, or anything else – and yet it was none of these things, completely unique in its own painful way.

Even later on, Harry would not and could not recall hitting the ground – but in a moment, he had fallen backwards and flat on his back, twitching and shaking with seizures. Pim watched, horrified, before springing into action.

"Galatea, get the most powerful potions we have, NOW!" he ordered, frantic. He was not angry at Harry, not at all, but rather, he was angry with himself; how could he have possibly missed how dangerous this mirror was?

As his ward was recovering in his bed, with Galatea watching over him and trying different potions, Pim was trying to figure out why the mirror had only affected Harry, and not himself or Galatea. Ideas slowly came forward. Perhaps it only worked on living people, and not automatons like Galatea or partially-dead people like Pim himself?

As Pim was pondering this problem, Galatea approached him with the vials of different potions, and he was able to read her sign language: None of them were working. Now that Pim knew that he was dealing with something outside his already vast realm of knowledge, he used the magic of the tower itself to "scan" Harry to see what was wrong with him.

Even Pim himself was worried with what he saw; he could see the effects from the mirror somehow attacking Harry's own magic, weakening him. The effects from the mirror, if left unchecked or unchallenged, could begin to eat away at Harry's magic, like a small fire burning away at a piece of paper.

They didn't have the right kinds of potions or other forms of magic to deal with this kind of thing… but Pim did have something else. He knew the risks he was taking, but it was worth it.

Pim started to siphon off magic from himself and transfer his own magic from himself and into Harry's weakened body. If this affliction which Harry had contracted from the Mirror of Raef – possibly a safeguard of some kind? – was acting like a virus, then this ought to stop it. The magic of a young, relatively inexperienced wizard-in-training like Harry wasn't nearly strong enough, but when it was supplemented by the magic of a millennia-old, immeasurably experienced and unimaginably powerful wizard like Pim, it didn't have a chance.

After a minute or so, the threat was vanquished, and Harry's shaking and trembling ceased.

It was several minutes more when Harry opened his eyes again, fully functional for the first time since when the mirror had done whatever it was to him.

"Pim?" he said weakly.

"I'm here, Harry," Pim said comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm starting to feel a little better," Harry said quietly. "But what just happened?"

"I think when you tried to push the mirror away from you, it perceived you as a threat and thus tried to defend itself. But that's only my theory."

Harry was silent for a few more moments, but before he could speak again, Pim continued, "But I'm afraid there's more."

Harry nodded, listening, and so Pim explained, "In order to cure you of whatever affliction which the Mirror of Raef cast on you, I had to draw upon the reserve magic and use that. I'm afraid that within a day or two, the tower will not have enough power to sustain everything, including yourself. I'm afraid we may not be able to spend Chrismtas together this year."

Now Harry was really beginning to feel terrible, aside from just before when he was suffering from the mirror's affliction. Perhaps out of an old habit, perhaps out of reflex, he said, "I'm sorry, Pim, I shouldn't have looked into that mirror…"

"It's not your fault, Harry," Pim reassured him, "and for some reason, the mirror didn't affect me or Galatea. I'm still looking into that right now. But now we also have to consider where you will spend the rest of your winter holiday."

Both of them were silent as they contemplated that, and finally, Harry said, "I suppose I could go back to Hogwarts… Ron and his brothers are staying there for Christmas this year."

"Then you could write a letter telling your headmaster that you need to return because, say, I have fallen ill or something along those lines," Pim suggested.

"Yeah, I could do that," Harry muttered distractedly as he got up to look for a pencil and some paper. Within minutes, Harry had a message addressed to Dumbledore…

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_Something has come up. My guardian has fallen ill with something, and it would probably be a bad idea for me to be around while he is fighting it. I was wondering if I could come back and spend the rest of my winter holiday at Hogwarts. Please let me know as soon as possible._

_Sincerely,  
Harry Potter_

Harry folded it up and sealed it, and then gave it to Hedwig. Because of the urgency of the situation, Harry's loyal snowy owl agreed to let Pim use one of the Luclars to transport her about halfway from the Tower of Pim to Hogwarts, so no one would suspect anything.

It was nearly midnight when Hedwig returned with a response from Dumbledore, and Harry delayed sleep just long enough to read his reply.

_Mr. Potter,_

_I certainly hope that your guardian is and will be alright. It is certainly lamentable that he fall ill like this just before Christmas. One can only hope that he has nice, warm socks for his feet in situations like this._

_Of course you can come back to the school for the rest of your holiday. It should be no problem whatsoever._

_Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

It was settled, then: Harry would return to Hogwarts the following day.

"Will you be alright?" Harry asked Pim. Pim just reiterated himself by saying, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. This is just a minor setback. Just enjoy your holiday."

* * *

The next morning, Harry walked into the Great Hall, maneuvering his trunk behind him (Pim had added some small wheels to make it less suspicious). Pim had dropped him off near the Leaky Cauldron, from whence Harry used the Floo Network to get to the pub in town called the Hog's Head, and from whence Harry walked up to the castle itself. The few other students who were also staying over the winter holidays looked at Harry for a moment before turning back to doing whatever they were doing.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron shouted, waving him over. Harry waved back and came over to the Gryffindor Table. "What are you doing back here?" Ron asked once Harry was there.

"Eh, my guardian got sick and came down with something," Harry said, feigning sadness and disappointment.

"Just before Christmas?" Ron asked incredulously. Harry nodded. "Ooh, tough break," the redhead said sympathetically.

"Yeah, I know, but he'll be fine," Harry said reassuringly.

"So, now that you're back here… what do you want to do?"

"Well, the first thing I want to do is get all my stuff back in my room. After that… well, what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking about a snowball fight…"

"I just got in from walking through the snow, so give me an hour, and I'll be ready to go."

So, an hour later and after Harry got everything taken care of, he was outside with Ron, in a brutal no-magic snowball fight with the twins. With his quick reflexes, Harry proved to be quite good at dodging snowballs thrown at him, although he was still working a little on his aim.

As it got darker, they went back inside, and since the common room was so much emptier than usual, Harry and Ron could sit in the better chairs closer to the fire. They would get a few things such as bread and marshmallows and spear them on toasting forks, talking as they enjoyed their snacks on this winter night. Before they went to bed, Ron even showed Harry wizard's chess (which was exactly like Muggle chess, except for the chess pieces themselves actually being alive). Maybe it was Ron's skill, maybe it was because he was using the chessmen which someone else had lent him and not his own, but soon enough, Ron beat him in the end. At least Harry had fun, and that mattered too.

The next morning, Harry awoke to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," Ron said sleepily.

"You too," Harry replied as he got up to inspect his own load. At the very top was the cloak which Pim had given him – it had been sent to Hogwarts just in time for Christmas, just to maintain appearances.

Next was something addressed to him from Hagrid. It turned out to be a roughly cut wooden flute, whittled by Hagrid himself. Despite having no musical training, Harry tried it out – it sounded a bit like an owl.

"Uh oh," Ron said suddenly.

"What?" Harry said, snapping out of his trance as he observed the flute.

"Oh no," Ron groaned as he pointed to a very lumpy parcel, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

The tone in Ron's voice made it sound like it was something to be feared, but after Harry opened the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted emerald green sweater along with a large box of homemade fudge, he resisted the small urge to laugh at Ron's sense of doom.

"Well, that was very nice of her," Harry commented as he tried a bit of the fudge.

"Speak for yourself," Ron said, holding up his own sweater for Harry to see. "Mine is _maroon_."

"So ask her not to make them maroon," Harry said offhandedly as he turned to the rest of his pile.

After Ron took a moment to think about what Harry had just said, he decided to open the parcel from Harry himself. He was intrigued by what he saw, and then delighted by it.

"It guards my trunk and whatever's in it, huh? I just know I'll like this thing!"

Harry laughed a little as he saw Ron follow the instructions to make it work. First, he had to say the incantation: "_Canis Cistae, meum nomen est Ronald Bilius Weasley, et ego sum tuus dominus; ego nomino tu Fido, et ego do munerum custodientis mea cista."_ ("Trunkdog, my name is Ronald Bilius Weasley, and I am your master; I name you Fido, and I give you the duty of guarding my trunk.") Then, with a wave and jab of his wand, the little statuette came alive and yipped eagerly, wagging its little tail. It trotted into Ron's open hand, and he gently put it in the trunk.

Meanwhile, Harry continued going through his own presents as well. The next one from Hermione turned out to be some sweets – which, Harry contemplated, might be an unusual choice from the daughter of two dentists. As Harry looked at the large box of Chocolate Frogs, he thought to himself that he hoped that Hermione liked the Word-Seeking Lamp which Harry had gotten for her.

Now there was only one parcel left, and as Harry picked it up, he noted how light it was. After he unwrapped the parcel, something fluid and silvery gray slithered out and onto the floor, gleaming.

Ron gasped. "That's an Invisibility Cloak!" he whispered excitedly.

"Hm, that it is," Harry commented as he picked it up. Putting it on, he turned completely invisible, as he could see in the mirror.

Just then, a note fell out of it. Looking down, Harry took off the cloak, picked up the note and read it. It was written in unfamiliar handwriting, saying how his father had left it in the sender's possession before he died, how it was time it was returned to him, how he was to use it well, and wishing him a Merry Christmas. And there was no signature to boot.

Ron was just saying out loud how he would give_anything_ for one of these when he noticed the look on Harry's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said automatically, but then elaborated, "Just… thinking." To think that this belonged to his father… that he was holding a piece of his parents in his very hands…

Just then, the dormitory door was flung open as Fred and George bounded in. Sensing a possibility of trouble, Harry quickly stuffed the Invisibility Cloak out of sight, since he didn't want to show it to anyone else just yet.

"Hi guys," Harry said, perhaps a little too quickly. Seeing their jumpers, he said, "Er, nice jumpers."

"So you noticed, hm?" Fred said, indicating their blue jumpers, but with a gold F on his own and a gold G on his twin's.

"Yeah, Mum seems to think we might get mixed up too much or something," George commented. "But seriously, we know we're called Gred and Forge."

Harry snickered as Percy arrived, sticking his head through the door and looking disapproving. But as soon as the twins noticed Percy's own lumpy parcel, the bespectacled Weasley brother didn't stand a chance. He tried to protest, but to no avail.

"Wow, Percy, you also got a Weasley sweater of your very own!" Fred exclaimed. "Look, even Harry got his own! Won't the five of us just look absolutely spiffing together!"

"Yes, Christmas is indeed a time for family and friends," George added as the two of them forced the sweater over their brothers' head.

And so that was how Percy Weasley, Gryffindor fifth-year prefect, ended up being frog-marched by his own younger brothers, practically helpless to do anything about it.

Following behind them, Harry quietly asked Ron, "You sure it's okay if I sit with you and your brothers?"

Ron looked back at him, a little incredulously, and said, "Of course it is! Just like they said, it's a time for family and friends!"

* * *

Harry had to admit, when it came to providing for students who stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, the school didn't fail to deliver. All those mountains of food, especially for relatively few people at Hogwarts… he privately thought that the number of turkeys alone would be enough to sufficiently feed a small army.

And then there were the party favors, which were so much better than the Muggle ones which Harry had seen before. When Harry decided to try one, it exploded with a loud bang and gave off a big cloud of blue smoke which he momentarily couldn't see through, but when he cleared, he found a Muggle fedora and several white mice. After he had brushed aside the mice (he figured maybe Hedwig would catch them later, if some other creature didn't get to them first), he tried on the fedora, just for grins, and got rather flattering comments from the twins. As Harry ate his flaming Christmas pudding, he unobtrusively watched some of the antics which the professors were getting into up at the High Table with some amusement. As Harry left the table, laden with party favors such as his own new wizard chess set and various other party favors, he decided to send some of them to Pim later.

That afternoon, Harry and Ron engaged in yet another snowball fight with Fred and George. At one point, the twins tried to bury him in a small mountain of snow, thinking that he'd get freezing cold and beg for mercy, but they were in for a surprise. Thanks to Pim's new cloak, Harry was nice and warm, and so as his two adversaries turned on their brother to deal with him, Harry forced his fists out through the snow and grabbed the two of them by their ankles. As he used them to pull himself out, the two of them fell facedown into the snow, eliciting raucous laughter from Ron.

In the remaining time before dinner, Harry and Ron engaged in yet another game of chess by the fire, with Harry trying out his new chess set. While he lost yet again to Ron, he had a feeling that, with time, he would be able to trust and fight with his new chessmen.

After a filling dinner, Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room to find Percy fuming about Fred and George because they stole his prefect badge. While Percy was furiously searching the common room, Harry and Ron went upstairs back to their own room to find Fred and George hunched over Ron's trunk. Hiding by the doorway, the two of them watched the twins.

"I know, let's hide it in Ron's trunk, say that he did it."

"Brilliant idea, George. Let's do just that."

Ron was just about to come out of his hiding place to yell at the twins for trying to set him up, but as soon as they opened the trunk, what appeared to be a small, rabbit-sized dog sprung out of the trunk. It barked and snarled, jumping from one twin to the other, trying to stop them from going into its master's trunk. For something cast in bronze, it was fast, but it was also rather heavy to shake off. As the twins tried to take it down, Ron burst out laughing while Harry snickered.

A few moments later, Percy came in, and after Ron made his Trunkdog cease and desist, the prefect retrieved his badge and dragged Fred and George out, muttering about how glad he was. After they were gone, and the Trunkdog was sitting obediently with its tail wagging, Ron turned to Harry with a big grin on his face and said, "Thanks for getting me that thing, mate! I know I'll like it!"

Harry smiled and said, "You're welcome." To himself, he was glad that he had chosen well.

Despite the unexpected circumstances, Harry still had a wonderful holiday, which was almost comparable to his Christmas the previous year, with Pim. As he lay in bed, he was just thinking to himself, but then, something else occurred to him…

The Invisibility Cloak. An heirloom from his parents. A wonderful thing which could make him invisible. It was certainly an interesting surprise.

And yet he still had to find more about Nicholas Flamel.

As Harry put the two together, he realized what he could do with them.

_Well, maybe I'll just pay the library a little nighttime visit,_ Harry thought to himself as he got out of bed. He briefly considered changing into his normal, daytime clothes, but then again, if he was going to be invisible, then maybe it shouldn't matter. Once he made sure he had his wand, and that his Invisibility Cloak was securely on, he swept out of the room, down the stairs and out of the tower.

Harry never felt freer at Hogwarts before than he had with this Invisibility Cloak. Finally, a piece of his past, his heritage, his family… he swallowed as he thought about his parents. He was still trying to expunge those frightening images from his mind, what the Mirror of Raef had shown him.

Something about this cloak made it feel as though it was made just for him, and it wasn't just the fact that it was his father's. He had also used Pim's own Invisibility Cloak before, but something about this just felt… different to him.

In any case, Harry went down a floor or two of the castle, leisurely walking the halls while keeping as quiet as possible; after all, someone could still hear him, or even feel him if they made contact.

But soon enough, as he arrived at the library itself, Harry smiled to himself as he thought of using his cloak to sneak into the library and look for books on Nicholas Flamel. Ron and Hermione would certainly appreciate the help.

Besides, he thought as he internally smirked to himself, the note did tell him to "use it well."

Within minutes, Harry was inside the library, ready to look for Flamel.

Even with their devotion to the goal, Harry and his friends could not search through each of the tens of thousands of books even remotely related to potions, alchemy, or any other parameters which they decided upon for Nicholas Flamel. At this moment, Harry wished he had a lamp like the one which he had given Hermione for Christmas. But maybe, just maybe, Harry could look through the Restricted Section?

Harry knew to be careful, if they called it the "Restricted Section" and didn't allow normal students access to it, but only older students with passes from professors to retrieve certain books. He had also heard from Pim stories about books which could do evil and terrible things… but then Harry reasoned that surely the Hogwarts staff wouldn't keep anything _too_ bad or dangerous in the school's own library. So what if a book here or there had something on its cover which looked a lot like blood? It couldn't be that bad, right?

Some of the books had no title at all, and quite a few of the books had peeling, faded gold letters on them, but even then, most of those with the lettering didn't look useful. However, he thought he caught the word _alchemy_ on one of them, and so that seemed like a good place to start.

Harry carefully pulled the book out of its spot and laid it on the floor, and carefully opened it to a random page about halfway through.

For a brief moment, he looked at the blank pages and saw nothing. But then there was a hissing, sizzling sound. Then the pages began to give off wisps of smoke, as if it was heating up. And finally, the sound got even louder something began bubbling out of the pages themselves – it was acid!

As the sickly green liquid began to overflow beyond the borders of the book itself, Harry knew it was too late to try to pick it up and close it. Not sure what to do, he decided to run, but in his haste, he ran into another bookshelf. This time, he managed to knock a heavy book out of its place, a large black and silver volume, which fell to the floor – but not before giving out a piercing, bloodcurdling shriek as its pages hung open during its descent, only to stop and close again when it hit the floor.

Harry knew he was in trouble, and making sure that his Invisibility Cloak was securely on, he rushed down the aisle, especially before the acid from the first book could make contact with him.

At the doorway, there was Filch, with his eyes wide open, wondering just what had happened this time; fortunately, Harry swiftly passed around him, completely invisible. However, once he was outside, he realized that he had no idea where he was. The fact that it was dark didn't quite help either…

Nor did it help when Harry heard voices from whence he had come. "You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section," Filch said, to which Snape replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

It was a narrow corridor, and the cloak made Harry invisible, but certainly not intangible, and sooner or later, they would find him. However, he noticed a door which was ajar, which just might be his only hope for escape. Concentrating, he squeezed through the door without actually moving it. Once he was on the other side, he listened carefully, and after their footsteps became more and more distant, and finally vanished entirely, Harry let himself sigh in relief. After he was absolutely sure they were gone, he looked around the room.

He decided that it must have been an unused classroom, what with the desks and chairs piled against the wall. However, there was something which looked as though it didn't belong there.

Harry saw it: A magnificent mirror with an ornate gold frame, as high as the ceiling itself, standing on two clawed feet. Harry read the inscription curved around the top:_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

_Wait a minute,_ Harry thought to himself, remembering the other mirror. He wasn't so sure he wanted to take a look in this one, especially after what happened with the other mirror. Still, something about it drew him to it…

Deciding to take one quick look, Harry did so – and was completely amazed by what he saw. He saw himself, but his reflection wasn't alone. On the contrary, his smiling, happy reflection was surrounded by many people.

Harry stared into the mirror, where his happy reflection was surrounded by many people whom he had never seen before. Some of them had dark hair, others had green eyes, and a few even had knobby knees – just like him. But there were two people in the center, standing directly behind Harry's reflection, whom Harry focused the most on.

There was a man who had practically the same face as Harry, as well as messy, untamable black hair, and even glasses similar to Harry's; however, his eyes were not green, but instead hazel. His expression was a reassuring smile, which was confident but not arrogant. The woman next to him was a decidedly beautiful woman, one with a straight face and auburn hair that cascaded behind her, and perhaps her most dazzling features were her eyes, which were just like Harry's.

"Mum?" he breathed. "Dad?"

For Harry, this was too good to be true. After all those years at the Dursleys' house with no idea of what his parents looked like, after hearing the occasional comment about how he looked like his father but had his mother's eyes, and even after seeing that horrible vision of all trace of them being utterly destroyed in the other mirror, he finally had faces to the names. In fact, maybe what he saw in the other mirror made him want to continue seeing what he saw in this mirror even more…

Harry sat there for what must have been a long time – it could have been minutes or even hours – but he just wanted to stay there, with his parents as company. He was so entranced by it all that he didn't even say anything, but just gazed upon his parents' faces…

A sudden, distant sound snapped Harry out of his trance. He knew he had to go, but with one last look at the mirror, he said reassuringly, "I'll be back soon… I promise."

* * *

It was around midnight, as Christmas slowly gave way to the day after it, and Pim was staring out into the distance, thinking to himself.

He really needed a new energy source, and fast. True, he did have some nuclear reactors which he got his hands on as the Soviet Union was collapsing in these past few months, but he was wary of those and didn't want to touch them… not just yet, anyway.

It would have been nice to enjoy the entire holiday with Harry, if only it hadn't been for that troublesome mirror…

Suddenly, he saw something up in the sky. After watching it for a few moments, seeing it get larger during that time, Pim determined that it wasn't a star… but could it have been a meteor?

Within seconds the thing had gone from being a light in the sky to a falling object which impacted the ground, several meters from the magical boundaries of the Tower of Pim, sending up snow, dirt and smoke.

Now Pim was slowly becoming alarmed. What else could go wrong now?

_Somehow, I doubt it's something which Santa Claus dropped._

Using something from the spire on the top of the tower, Pim sent out spells to scan and analyze this new object. When he found nothing suspicious or dangerous about it – no foreign microorganisms, no malevolent magic – he decided to investigate it.

His magic was still strong enough for him to use that synthetic body of his for about an hour, and so he decided to use that to investigate the meteorite.

Thus, Pim and his synthetic body walked from the tower to the site of the meteor impact, quickly and quietly. Using his magic with some extra support from the tower itself, he lifted the meteorite with his bare albeit artificial hands and walked back to the tower with it, carrying it over his head. With a mental command, he had some magic from the tower erase any and all evidence of a meteorite ever having landed there at all.

Once Pim was back in the tower, he used the Transcamera to take the meteorite with him up to the seventh floor. Once he was in his recently-made scientific laboratory which dealt less with magic and more with Muggle science, he set the meteorite down on a table. However, as he made to collect some tools with which to examine it, the thing suddenly crumbled, exposing something infinitely more special inside.

The top half of the meteorite crumbled away to reveal brilliant purple crystals. They almost looked like quartz, especially with their shape. But that brilliant shade of purple… if it was quartz, then it was definitely not _normal_ quartz. In fact, their color was so brilliant that when Pim momentarily extinguished the lights in the room, they gave a faint purple glow.

Not to mention the sheer magical power which Pim could _feel_ wherever he was, the kind of power which could help support the tower for a long time to come.

After turning the lights back on, Pim carefully touched the exposed crystal with the fingertips of his synthetic body, just to see what it might feel like. Merely making physical contact with the exposed crystals did not harm him in any way, and as he observed this fact, he began thinking to himself…

_This crystal is so powerful! Not only could I power the Tower of Pim for a long time to come, but I could also make myself a new body with it! I could do it by using the crystal with that big container in my stash which holds –_

Wait, what? Where did that thought come from? Also, why did it feel almost as though that thought was simply placed in his mind?

Well, whatever reason, Pim now had something to go with. He had already run some tests on these crystals to determine just how safe they really were, but he decided to give it another week or so, just in case. He didn't want to snatch Harry back and make him spend the rest of his winter holiday at the tower if there was some kind of threat.

Not wasting any time, Pim began to work.

* * *

The next day, Harry ended up telling Ron about the mirror. Ron sounded excited about it ("Shame about not finding Flamel, but it would be nice to see your family").

In the meantime, Ron and the twins were going to either hang around Gryffindor Tower and use it all for themselves or go outside and have more fun in the snow, and Harry had already agreed to go along with them.

Harry didn't eat much, nor did he focus too much on finding Flamel, but he did think a lot about that mirror…

* * *

Later that night, Harry and Ron were huddled together under the Invisibility Cloak as its owner led his friend to where the mirror must have been.

"Look, Harry, it's really not that important," Ron said, feeling cold and thinking he'd rather prefer sleeping in his nice warm bed.

"No, wait, I know it's here… around here somewhere… ah, yes, here it is!"

And with that, Harry led Ron into the unused classroom with that special mirror. As they shut the door behind them and took off the cloak, Harry strode toward it, toward the now-familiar images of his parents and other relatives.

"It's so good to see you again," Harry whispered softly.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Ron asked as he looked around the room.

Now realizing how he might have sounded out loud, Harry caught himself and now said, "Nothing, forget it. Anyway, can you see them?"

Ron took a good look and finally said, "Sorry, not from where I'm standing, no. I can't see any of them, or anyone at all."

"Here, then come over and stand where I am now…"

As Harry stepped aside, Ron took his place, standing in front of the mirror in his pajamas. From the side, all Harry could see was Ron's own normal, accurate reflection, but judging by that transfixed look on Ron's face, he deduced that Ron was seeing something else.

"Wow, look at me!" he exclaimed.

"What, can you see your family?"

"No, I don't see them… it's me! I'm older… I'm Head Boy! I'm Quidditch captain, too! I'm actually holding the House Cup in one hand and the Quidditch Cup in the other! Blimey!"

As Harry thought to himself, trying to figure out why they both saw different things, Ron finally tore his gaze away from the mirror to face Harry.

"You don't think this mirror shows the future, do you?"

"Since all my family are dead, I'm guessing not."

There was a moment of silence while both of them thought about the mirror's abilities – at least until Ron turned back to the mirror. "If it's not a problem, I'm going to look into it a bit more."

"I thought it was my turn to look in the mirror again."

"Just let me look again for a moment. Besides, you had it to yourself last night, right?"

"Surely those badges and cups can't be all that interesting."

"Harry, there might be images of your family lying around somewhere, you really don't need this thing…"

"Ron, you still have several more years ahead to try and become Head Boy or Quidditch captain, so you might not need the mirror after all…"

As their attempts to convince each other to relinquish the mirror to the other turned into heated arguing over it, a sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to it as they realized just how loudly they had been talking. Just after they quickly threw the cloak back in, Mrs. Norris stood on the threshold, surveying the room. Both Harry and Ron were wondering if the Invisibility Cloak worked on cats, but thankfully, Filch's cat finally turned and left. After she was gone, the two boys came to an unspoken agreement, and quietly walked back to Gryffindor Tower before anyone could catch them.

* * *

The day after their midnight adventure together, the snow still hadn't melted, and Harry still hadn't stopped thinking about that mirror.

It was after Harry declined every offer and idea of Ron's that the redhead figured it out.

"I'm serious, Harry, between all the close shaves you've had with whoever stalks the halls at night and how you obsess over that thing, it's becoming really dangerous. You could be pushing your luck, you know?"

Harry sighed. "Fine, Ron, I won't go."

Ron looked relieved, but if he knew that Harry was really only saying that to get him off his back, he probably would have been much more watchful.

* * *

This particular night, Harry was so keen to get to the Mirror of Erised that as soon as he entered the room, he made a beeline straight for the mirror itself, oblivious to anything else. Barely a minute had passed when a new voice jolted him out of his blissful trance: "Ah, back again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he whipped around to see Professor Dumbledore sitting there, perched on one of the desks against the wall.

"Oh, uh, Headmaster," Harry said a little nervously. He felt like he was really in for it now. "I didn't see you there."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore commented, and Harry began to feel relief when he realized that Dumbledore was smiling.

"So," Dumbledore continued as he walked over towards Harry, "like countless others before you, you have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"_Erised"?_ Harry wondered, and then recalled the inscription on the mirror itself. In fact, as he looked as it again, he noticed something which he hadn't noticed before…

After a moment or so, Harry said softly, "'I show not your face but your heart's desire.'"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Very clever, my boy."

Harry nodded to acknowledge the Headmaster's small praise, but if this mirror showed a person's desire, then would that make the Mirror of Raef one which showed a person's… fear?

"So this mirror shows us our desires," Harry stated, just to understand. "Whatever we want…"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore responded quietly. "Merely our deepest desires – no more, no less. However, sometimes our deepest desire is just not possible – no offense, Harry, since I know you would like to have your family with you, alive and well. As for your friend Ronald Weasley…"

"He has all those brothers to contend with, so he wants to be just as good as them," Harry concluded. "Maybe even better than them."

"Precisely. However, this mirror does not give its beholder knowledge or truth. If anything, this mirror can be truly dangerous. Oh, I doubt that the mirror itself has any kind of malevolent intent towards whoever looks into it, but its simple purpose of showing people their biggest desires can make it too powerful to resist. There are accounts of people wasting away before it, being driven mad by it, or even fighting and killing each other over it – far too many accounts for my own comfort, I admit." As Dumbledore paused for Harry to digest his words, the boy could feel the weight of those words sinking in. As Pim had taught him once, the more appealing something was, the more people would be willing to do anything to obtain it.

"Anyway, the Mirror of Erised will be moved to another location tomorrow, so I urge you to not to keep pursuing it. Remember, Harry, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Dumbledore's wisdom about "dwelling on dreams and forgetting to live" struck a chord with Harry; it almost seemed to sum up this whole experience perfectly.

"So, if there is nothing else for us to discuss, perhaps we should both leave, as we both need our rest."

Harry got the hint, and so as he collected his cloak, he asked, "Professor Dumbledore, can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled, and Harry internally laughed at the Headmaster's wit. "But yes, you may ask me one more thing."

Harry was about to ask Dumbledore what he saw when he looked in the mirror, but then realized that it may be quite a personal question. So, changing tactics at the last moment, he instead asked, "Have you ever heard of any similar mirrors, which work like the Mirror of Erised does, but shows people something different than their desires?"

Dumbledore had to admit, he did not see that question coming. So, after thinking about it for a few moments, he finally said, "No, I don't believe so."

"Ah… just asking." And so, after student and professor bade each other good night and farewell, Harry put his cloak back on and departed.

However, once he got back to his room, Harry felt a little sad. If only he had had another few moments or so with his mirror… and his family…

* * *

However, while Dumbledore did suggest getting the rest which both he and Harry needed, the conversation had reawakened old memories which he couldn't stop thinking about. It was doubtful that he could go to sleep with something like this on his mind.

Of course, it didn't help either when Dumbledore looked into the mirror and saw himself with _his own family_ as he departed…

Dumbledore was walking through Hogsmeade, deep in thought. It may have only been a few minutes until one in the morning, but the destination which he had in mind ought to have been open that late, maybe even later.

Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was the time of year, but it just so happened that the Hog's Head was completely empty – minus the bartender, of course, who was sitting at the counter, listening to some music on the wizarding wireless.

As Dumbledore took a seat at the bar, the bartender turned to notice him. With a slight sneer on his face, he leaned over to turn down the volume on the wireless until it was almost completely silent, and then turned to face Dumbledore fully.

"Well now, I didn't expect you here again. I'm certain that you're not here for a drink, and I'm sure it has nothing to do with a certain Dark Lord. And the last time you were in here, a year or so ago, it was because of the calamity with young Harry Potter. Could that possibly be why you're in here again?"

Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment, taking his time before he responded. "In a way, yes… it does have something to do with him." He then added, "I found him snooping through the halls just earlier tonight, eager to… return to something."

The bartender eyed him for just a moment, and then said, "If you're going to talk to me because you've got something on your mind, then just tell me everything, because if you're only going to cherry-pick certain parts and tell me those, then I may not be that much help. I don't know how the rest of the magical community deals with it, but I for one get sick and tired of all your secrets, lies and half-truths very fast."

In Dumbledore's own honest opinion, that last remark about his "secrets, lies and half-truths" was uncalled for, but he let it slide.

"I found Harry using the Mirror of Erised, which I had stored in an obscure, unused classroom," Dumbledore explained. "It's that legendary mirror which –"

"I know what it is," the bartender cut across him. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"I never thought you were," Dumbledore defended himself, but the bartender just shot him a nasty look anyway. "Anyway, I knew what I would see if I looked in the mirror, but on the way out, I quickly looked and for less than a second… I saw them."

Now the bartender knew where Dumbledore was going this. "So you saw yourself with your family, all of whom were alive and well, did you?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply.

The bartender jerked a little as if caught by surprise. Maybe he had not been expected that? The tone of his question implied that he thought so.

"Makes perfect sense to me," the bartender grumbled. "So, what's this got to do with me?"

Dumbledore looked saddened now. "Well, I… I felt like I had to see you again, and have someone to talk to."

The headmaster may have said nothing wrong, but now the bartender looked like he was becoming angrier by the second, and as though he might explode at any minute.

"So that's all, is it?" the bartender snapped. "You come to talk to me just to deal with your own guilty conscience?"

"No," Dumbleore replied, although even after he said it, he did wonder if there was some truth to the bartender's words.

The bartender grunted and looked the headmaster in the eye. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Albus… I'll pass on any useful and relevant information which I hear to you, and I'll work with you against the likes of certain Dark wizards… but other than that, I want as little to do with you as possible. In fact, there are still times to this very day when I wish I hadn't stood in with everyone else for that photo which Moody had taken of the Order…"

"Surely I can't bother you _that_ much," Dumbledore said rather quietly, hoping to placate the other man, but unfortunately, this man was one of few people whom he could not sweet-talk or console.

"You have no idea," the bartender growled. "Nor do you have any idea how many times I wanted to stop you from becoming Headmaster at Hogwarts, let alone a professor anywhere in the world. If anyone knew you like I did, there would be no way they would trust you with their own children…"

"Please," Dumbledore calmly beseeched the other man. However, the bartender may have heard a plea of mercy for him to stop somewhere in the Headmaster's voice, and so, feeling emboldened, he continued.

"Thought maybe if you taught and controlled a school full of magical children, it would redeem you for what happened to _her?_ For Merlin's sake, Albus, she was your own _sister_…"

"Enough!" Dumbledore snapped, although he now sounded a little anguished. To himself, the bartender was thinking that maybe it was wrong for himself to act this way, but he had to admit that he did seeing some sort of morbid pleasure in seeing the great Albus Dumbledore act this way.

"I truly did care about her," Dumbledore protested. "I admit it, I may have focused too much on my own goals at times, but I truly did love her. Maybe you're right, maybe in some way, I am trying to redeem myself for what happened. It still haunts me, how close I came to nearly becoming a Dark wizard myself. That is also the reason I do what I do, trying to educate the minds of adolescent wizards and witches, before they become adults. Because I don't want anyone else turning out the way I did… or what I could have been."

Dumbledore spoke it truthfully, from the heart, so there must have been some way for the bartender to see that, how he still carried all that guilt and remorse in his heart, and continue to do so for the rest of his life…

But if the bartender was at all moved or convinced by Dumbledore's words, then he didn't show it. "When you say you didn't want anyone else turning out the way you did," he sneered, "do you mean you don't want them to be foolish kids like you were, or you don't want them becoming powerful, influential magical citizens like you are now? Because that might make for some rivals and threats down the line, you know, and I doubt you would want _that_."

Dumbledore's nerves were already frayed from this whole experience, and now this man was leading him down a hellish road of his own worst memories, like a dementor without the icy effects. Whether he truly deserved this kind of punishment or not was an issue fleeing from his mind as he felt his anger rise, ready to fall back into the habit of arguing with this other man as they did when they were both still young boys.

But just then, their arguing was interrupted by the sound of a goat. The old she-goat must have wandered in from a back door, and now it observed the two of them, curiously.

"Nellie," the bartender addressed the goat, and it trotted up to him, looking a little worried.

"Oh, it's all okay, Nellie," the bartender said soothingly. "Is the big bad hypocrite over there scaring you?"

Dumbledore didn't let the bartender's obvious insult bother him. Maybe it was time to stop things now before it led to someone else getting killed, like the last time they drew wands. Maybe it was time to go now.

"Again, I just wanted to see if we could do anything together. But if you would rather that you still did not see me unless it was necessary… then I understand. Please enjoy the rest of your winter holiday… _Aberforth_."

Maybe it was the use of his name, maybe it was how Dumbledore said it, but the bartender sneered at the sound of his own name being spoken by the professor.

"Yes, you too," he grumbled, but more for the sake of saying it.

Dumbledore would have said something else, such as some words of wisdom, but he knew that sometimes, saying nothing was the best thing to do.

After he departed, the bartender turned to his goat and asked her, "He's really got some nerve coming in here like that, doesn't he, Nellie?" Sympathetic to her master, the she-goat bleated in agreement.

* * *

Back in his room, as Harry was waiting for Ron so they could go outside, he was reading something. Not sure what he should read, he just chose an author at random and ended up picking Seneca, the pessimist. Reading those texts which dated back to antiquity made Harry think of his home again, and so maybe that was why he did it. So now, Harry was going through his_Naturales Quaestiones_, reading this and that. One thing in particular caught his eye: _Inventa sunt specula ut homo ipse se nosset._

Getting out his "Scribble Tablet" as he called it, Harry worked on translating the intriguing sentence. A few minutes later, he figured it out.

"'Mirrors were invented so that man might know himself,'" Harry said, quoting it aloud.

Oh, how fitting, he thought to himself, especially after the experiences with those two mirrors.

Maybe over this past winter holiday, Harry had gotten to know himself a little too well.

* * *

A/N:Well, I think I liked this chapter… how about you?

**Regarding the chapter title… it's from that quote by Seneca about mirrors.**

Regarding Pim's new insignia… maybe I'll try to draw it sometime.

I also hope I'm accurately capturing the difference between canon-Harry and EG-Harry ("EG" standing for "Eternal Guardian"), in that this version of Harry would prefer the Tower of Pim over Hogwarts itself as his "home."

Regarding the various cultures which Pim may have come into contact with any point (such as the Celts, Chinese, etc.)… I'm sorry if I've focused too much on Egypt, Greece or Rome; I mainly mentioned those cultures in the prologue just to give a basic idea of his knowledge and interaction with the past. Fortunately, future chapters should provide more of an opportunity to expand on Pim's adventures.

You may also notice that I made Harry and Pim visit the Potters' graves, but not their ruined house. I'm saving the house for later.

So, what did you all think of the Mirror of Raef? I also thought that, especially after seeing those horrible things in the Mirror of Raef, seeing the images of his parents and extended family in the Mirror of Erised would make it all the more addictive for him.

As for why Pim and Galatea weren't affected by the Mirror of Raef at all… my idea is that since neither of them are normal, living witches or wizards (remember, Pim has something of a unique "quasi-living" status), neither of them could be affected by it like Harry was.

You may also notice that, for the most part, I didn't refer to the bartender as Albus Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, because I was trying to underscore how estranged they are by the tragedy in their past. Also, judging by how Aberforth was in Moody's photo of the Order of the Phoenix, I'm guessing Aberforth may have shelved his pride and have worked with Albus if it meant bringing down Voldemort.

Regarding Pim's "Santa Claus"… yes, it is _deus ex machina_ somewhat, but it will be explained all in due time. As for the thing with nuclear reactors… the Soviet Union officially dissolved in December 1991, so the few months leading up to that would have been an ideal time for Pim to get a hold of one or more of those.

_You know what to do… review!_

–_**Quillian**_

**(First posted: November 7, 2007)  
(Last edited: ****September 12, 2012**)


	14. WHEN A MYSTERY IS TOO OVERPOWERING

**DISCLAIMER:** See the Prologue.

**CANON DISCLAIMER:** Covers things like the discovery of Flamel and the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, but the canon stuff only makes up for about a fraction of this chapter. Lots more original stuff here (including what the other object is)!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi everyone, sorry for the wait!

**This chapter is approximate to Book 1 (_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_), Chapter Thirteen, "Nicholas Flamel."**

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
WHEN A MYSTERY IS TOO OVERPOWERING**

After the holidays, Harry had learned to do without the Mirror of Erised, but he was still feeling a little bad about it. It didn't help either that now he had nightmares with the Mirror of Erised, Mirror of Raef, or even both mirrors taking place in them, where his parents, his friends, and even Pim disappeared with flashes of green light and cruel laughs.

Without trying to actually say "I told you so," Ron commented about Dumbledore's words of wisdom, saying that the Headmaster was right about it. After Hermione had returned and was subsequently told about the experiences with the mirror, she was torn between shock, because Harry had been roaming around the school night after night, and disappointment, because they still hadn't found anything about Flamel. However, Harry secretly wondered, just a little, if Hermione was also disappointed that she hadn't tried out such a fascinating mirror for herself.

Fortunately, once they had moved beyond the topics of the Mirror of Erised and the search for Flamel, they talked about other things, like how nice their respective Christmas breaks were. Hermione had also happily thanked Harry for her brand-new Word-Seeking Lamp. And unless Harry's senses were deceiving him, he could have sworn he witnessed Ron crooning once or twice over his brand-new Trunkdog.

The next day, classes resumed as normal… Harry just also hoped that his life would also resume to normal, or whatever that was for him.

* * *

As Pim observed the lingering snow from his tower, he was thinking about some important things. 

So far, he could sense nothing malevolent or dangerous about the glowing purple crystals. In fact, it seemed like an ideal solution for his power problem, with how much energy it gave off – especially of the magical variety.

However, at the same time, Pim was certainly wise enough to realize that if something seemed to good to be true, then it probably was. For this to suddenly come his way after suffering setbacks in his attempts to resolve his power problem… it just seemed too good to be true.

With no other real alternative, Pim was now using one of the few nuclear reactors which he had "purchased." Naturally, there were several safeguards in place, just in case something went wrong, but such was the price to pay for using such power.

But as for the crystals themselves… Pim wondered if some other being or entity had knowingly and deliberately sent those crystals his way. For the millennia over his own prolonged lifetime, he had heard rumors about other immortal beings moving about – and from the descriptions he heard, they didn't seem to fit himself or Amu.

Which left the question: If these crystals were indeed intentionally sent his way, were they from a being with benevolent or malevolent intentions?

So, for now, the purple crystals were being safely stored and observed on that Hut-on-the-Rock which he and Harry had bought off of the old man. And for now, Pim would have to make do with the nuclear reactors.

Of course, playing with those party favors which Harry had sent him from Hogwarts had also helped to amuse him.

"Say, Galatea," he called, taking his gaze away from the view, "want to play one of those naval strategy games? I promise I won't be silly again with the rear admiral's hat every time you sink one of my ships."

* * *

As someone who had become accustomed to many difficult things in his still-young life, Harry got used to things such as adverse weather conditions and overbearing Quidditch captains. But even now, he was wondering just how much more he could take, especially with the news that Snape would be refereeing the next match. Snape's unique and unusual dislike of Harry Potter was already well-known throughout the school, so between that and Snape's usual dislike of Gryffindors, Harry and his teammates had plenty of reasons to be worried. 

After Harry told Ron and Hermione about this turn of events, both of them were just as worried as himself, if not even more so. On the one hand, it looked like Snape had already tried to harm Harry at the first Quidditch match… on the other hand, with memories of what happened still in mind, it was unlikely that Snape would try anything again, especially with Dumbledore and the other professors and even the rest of the school watching. The three of them also considered that maybe Harry should fake an illness or injury, but then it might look suspicious, as well as the fact that Madam Pomfrey would know the truth.

In fact, Harry was so frustrated by his situation that he left Gryffindor Tower, saying that he wanted to go for a walk about the castle, just to calm his nerves before he did anything rash. A few moments later, Ron and Hermione followed him, just to make sure that he didn't do anything rash.

However, in one particularly deserted hallway, Harry saw someone doing a bunny-hop towards them. As they got closer to each other, he could see that it was Neville.

"Neville, what happened to you!?" Harry exclaimed as they rushed up to him. Neville just mumbled something while Hermione answered Harry's question as she said, "It's a Leg-Locker Curse." After she performed the countercurse, Harry and Ron helped him up.

"So what happened to you?" Harry repeated.

"Malfoy," Neville said very quietly. "I just happened to run into him, and he said he needed someone to practice that on."

"Then report him to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged him.

Neville shook his head. "If I do that, he'll know it was me!"

"Even then, even if he does know it was you – I mean, who else would it be? – at least then he might not be able to do anything about it," Harry said calmly, trying to convince Neville to do something about it. "Besides, at least you'll be stopping him from doing it again – to you or to anyone else."

Neville seemed to take in Harry's words, and he seemed to calm down himself as he thought about it.

However, at that particular moment, Professor McGonagall happened to be walking down the hall. At seeing a worried-looking Neville being surrounded by three of his classmates, she said, "Is something wrong, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville was silent for a moment or so as he tried to figure out what to say, or if he should even say anything at all. Finally, when it appeared that he didn't want to say anything, Hermione spoke up, "He had a run in with Draco Malfoy, Professor McGonagall."

Their Head of House pursed her lips. "I see," she said quietly. Raising her voice back to normal tones, she said, "Mr. Longbottom, why don't you come back with me to my office? We can discuss whatever the problem is there."

Somehow, at least to them, McGonagall's offer also sounded partially like an order, and so Neville bad his classmates farewell as he went off with McGonagall to her office.

"I hope things work out for Neville," Harry said, and the other two agreed with him.

* * *

In Professor McGonagall's office, Neville sat down and politely accepted the ginger newt which she offered him, not because he necessarily wanted to eat it, but because he didn't want to be rude or do anything else to get her angry, upset, or annoyed with him. 

"Now, Mr. Longbottom… is this about Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asked him.

"Yes," Neville whispered, finishing off the last of his ginger newt.

"What did he do?"

For a moment, Neville decided against saying anything, but then he suddenly blurted out, "He put a Leg-Locker Curse on me."

Now Professor McGonagall looked distinctly displeased with the situation. "I see… and I take it that you did not want to report him because you were afraid of retribution?"

With the situation summed up so eloquently like that, Neville nodded his head.

"I assure you, Mr. Longbottom, that Mr. Malfoy will be dealt with accordingly."

Neville looked up at her, rather surprised. "You believe me?"

Something about that worried Professor McGonagall a little. "You make it sound like I might call you a liar," she observed.

Neville just shrugged.

"Well, I know you wouldn't lie about such things, Mr. Longbottom. So, Mr. Malfoy is indeed responsible for what happened to you?"

Neville just nodded.

"I see. Well, I will see to it that he is dealt with appropriately." After pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts, Professor McGonagall asked her student, "Well, while we are still here… is there anything else on your mind?"

Neville just wanted to leave, go back to his dorm room and keep to himself for a little bit, but all of a sudden, he found Professor McGonagall's questions to be too much. He tried not to say anything, but before he knew it, it all came rushing out.

"I just don't like it here! I hate being the worst in all my classes, maybe even Herbology, which I like! It's just awful with the Slytherins especially! Look at me, I can't even use this wand properly!"

Here, Neville took out his wand, and with a wave of it, the legs on Neville's own chair vanished, sending him crashing to the floor.

"See what I mean?" Neville exclaimed, clearly frustrated as he got up, rubbing his backside. "This is my father's wand, too! Oh, Gran is right, what would he say if –"

"Wait," Professor McGonagall said, and Neville suddenly stopped mid-rant. "You say that's your_father's_ wand?" she asked him as she magically repaired the chair with her own wand.

"Yes," Neville said slowly. "Why?"

Professor McGonagall sighed a little. "I think I see what the problem is," she said. "It was your_father's_ wand. Meaning, it might not be suited for yourself."

Neville thought about it, and it began to make sense to him, too. "So… what should I do, Professor?"

"Well, I think it would be best if you got yourself a new wand…"

"But I don't know what Gran will say about that," he suddenly blurted out, and then quickly clamped his hands over his mouth when he realized that he had interrupted his own professor.

"Mr. Longbottom," she said patiently, "I'm certain your grandmother will understand that in order to pass your classes to the best of your ability and becoming a fully functioning and capable member of magical society, you will need the proper wand for yourself."

Neville lowered his hands and nodded in understanding.

"Perhaps this upcoming weekend, you could go to Diagon Alley and get a new wand."

"Yes, Professor," he said dutifully.

Because Professor McGonagall had to speak to another student anyway (she had to question Lee Jordan about a prank which she was reasonably sure the Weasley twins were responsible for), she ended up walking with Neville back to Gryffindor Tower. However, once they entered the common room, both professor and student saw a peculiar sight: What appeared to be Ron Weasley trying to move, except for the fact that the soles of his shoes were either melting into the carpet or were glued to it.

"Mr. Weasley, what is wrong with your shoes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I tried to help him do a simple cleaning spell," Harry began to say, just as Hermione also began to say, "We didn't think anyone would appreciate Ron tracking dirt all over the castle…"

"Mr. Weasley, please," McGonagall said, indicating that she wanted he himself to explain.

"Like they were saying," Ron said, "I stepped in some dirt walking across the grounds outside, and I was just trying to use this cleaning spell which Harry told me about… and then this happened." Here, he indicated his melted shoes.

With a couple of waves of her wand, the Transfiguration professor undid the damage to Ron's shoes. "Do you have any idea what caused the spell to go wrong, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron shook his head. "I dunno, Professor McGonagall, I did exactly what Harry told me to do with my own wand…" He took out his wand, and showed it to his Head of House.

Professor McGonagall accepted it from Ron and observed it. "Isn't this your brother Charlie's wand?" she asked.

"Yes," Ron said, wondering at first how she knew but then realizing that she must have known, since she had taught his brother for several years.

"I can also see how the unicorn hair is sticking out at the end," she commented. Returning the wand to its owner and looking up to him, she said, "I can understand why you would use your brother's old wand, but between its condition and possible incompatibility with you… I might advise getting a new one."

Since this led to the issue of his family's financial state, Ron gave a natural look around the common room before he spoke again. "Professor," he said discretely (even though there were only a few other Gryffindors scattered throughout the common room), "the thing is… I don't think we have the money, especially for a new wand…"

Only realizing what he was doing as he was doing it, Harry spoke up: "I could help you pay for one."

Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall looked at him, and after a moment, Ron said, "Really, you don't have to do that…"

"Ron, your mother also made and sent me the jumper and the fudge for Christmas," Harry pointed out. "She didn't have to do that, but she did it anyway. Really, Ron, I don't mind at all."

"It might cost a pretty Galleon," Ron observed in counterpoint, almost as if trying to dissuade Harry from his generous offer.

"A few Galleons might be worth avoiding melted shoes or any other accidents," Harry pointed out.

Ron had to admit, he couldn't argue with that logic. Finally, he said, "Well, if it's alright with my mum, then I suppose you could do it…"

"Splendid." Turning to Professor McGonagall, Harry now asked, "Professor, may I go up to my dorm room to write a letter?"

"Yes you may, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, nodding in his direction. With an expression of thanks, Harry dashed up to his room and collected a piece of paper and a pen. After a few minutes, he had written out his letter.

_Mrs. Weasley,_

_First of all, I just wanted to say "thank you" for the jumper and the fudge. The jumper is nice and warm, and the fudge is delicious. Really, you didn't have to, but thanks all the same._

_Anyway, it seems that Ron needs a new wand. I was wondering if I could pay for the wand. I'm fully aware that I don't have to do it… but then again, you didn't have to send me that stuff for Christmas, either._

_Please consider my offer._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

_P.S. I realize you may need some time to think it over, and so I told Hedwig to wait until you could write a reply. If you can't or don't want to offer her any food or drink, then she should be able to take care of herself._

Harry had also wondered, however briefly, if he should say something at all like how he knew someone who was poor, but decided that it might be a very sensitive topic. Ever since he had come to Hogwarts, and had gone on for longer amounts of time without Pim's presence or counsel, Harry had had to think for himself more and more. Still, he just hoped that he had done well with this letter.

Once that was done, Harry folded up and sealed the letter, and then pocketed it before returning back downstairs. After confirming with Ron and Professor McGonagall that it was fine by both of them, Harry went off to the Owlrey to send the letter with Hedwig.

"Hedwig," he told her, "I don't know where Ron lives. Do you think you would still be able to find his home?"

Hedwig, by both hooting softly and bobbing her head, reassured Harry that she would indeed find the Weasley residence. After accepting the letter, she gracefully flew out the window and towards the horizon.

On the way back from the Owlrey, Harry passed by the library, and deciding that now was as good a time as any, he could peruse through the books to see which would be helpful for his homework – just to go the extra distance.

However, as he was finishing with flipping through a book about potions and their practical uses, Harry remembered something else: His plans to try and practice Potions on his own, and maybe include a few others like Neville Longbottom. He would have to ask Dumbledore for permission first, and after he let the ink dry and then put it away, he left Gryffindor Tower to go check the staff room, and then maybe go to the Headmaster's office.

In the staff room, Dumbledore was sitting by himself, although he looked up and smiled a little when he saw Harry enter. "Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Professor, I was wondering about something," Harry said slowly. "I was wondering if I could try and practice Potions on my own, outside of Professor Snape's Potions classes. Maybe even have a few of my other classmates do this with me."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, out of both surprise and intrigue. "That is certainly an interesting request, Mr. Potter. May I ask why you want to do this?"

For some reason – maybe it was a leftover remnant of his conditioning from the Dursleys – he didn't want to say anything about Snape's questionable and dubious teaching methods… at least not just yet, anyway.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore… I want to be able to do these Potions on my own, without anyone watching over me – with all due respect to Professor Snape, of course. I mean, that is the idea of learning something it at school, isn't it? To become able to do these things on your own?"

Internally, Dumbledore was quite impressed with Harry's idea. He certainly hadn't expected this from the young Gryffindor.

"It is a very intriguing idea, Mr. Potter," he said. "However, I will have to think it over a little more. I will let you know within a few days."

Well, Harry thought, it didn't give him the permission he needed to do what he had hoped, but at least it was better than an outright refusal. It would do for now. "Thanks, Headmaster."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. You may leave now."

* * *

Later that same evening, Mrs. Molly Weasley was just cleaning up after dinner when there was a pecking sound at the window. Errol, the elderly family owl, was resting on his own perch, so this must have had to be another owl. Indeed, she did not recognize this beautiful snowy owl, which carried a piece of folded and sealed Muggle paper. 

"Well, hello there," she greeted the owl. "Thank you so much. I can offer you Owl Treats and water, unless you would rather prefer hunting out in the yard."

However, the snowy owl decided to accept her first option, and so with a grateful hoot, she fluttered across the room and perched next to Errol, eating an Owl Treat from a small bowl before drinking some water from another small bowl.

Mrs. Weasley got quite a surprise when she read the brief yet very thoughtful letter from none other than Harry Potter. There was something about the way he wrote it – most likely the sincerity which seemed to permeate the letter itself – that made it hard for her to even think about declining his offer.

So, after taking only a few minutes to think it over, she wrote out a reply to him in ink on parchment. When that was done, she gave the reply to Hedwig, telling the owl, "Here is my reply… but unless it's absolutely urgent, you're more than welcome to spend the night here. Can it wait until morning?"

Hedwig gave an affirmative hoot, and so the matter was settled. "Very well," Mrs. Weasley said. "In which case, I can hold on to the message until then."

At that point, her daughter Ginny walked into the room. Seeing the unfamiliar yet beautiful snowy owl, she asked her mother, "Whose owl is that, mum?"

"She belongs to one of Ron's friends from school," Mrs. Weasley said. "She'll be staying here for the night."

Ginny accepted this as an answer, and so she went on her merry way. She was taking advantage of the fact that this would be the only year as a child when she would have the entire house to herself without any older brothers around, and both her parents could tell that she was making the most of it.

However, as she watched her daughter scamper off, some new thoughts occurred to Mrs. Weasley…

For years, the Weasley matriarch had used words about Harry Potter, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived, to help her youngest child and only daughter go to sleep at night. However, over those years, Mrs. Weasley had done so because her foremost concern was getting young Ginny to sleep, and not to prepare her for the reality of what Harry Potter was really like. Now that Harry Potter was back in the wizarding world and now attending Hogwarts, and even more so that he was now a friend of Ron's, she would have to make sure that her daughter would not say or do anything… _inappropriate_ around the boy.

Mrs. Weasley also recalled her first impressions of the boy, back in September at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Even though he wasn't considered small for his age, he almost seemed capable of being able to shrink his presence, and melt into a crowd. But even then, in a sort of paradoxical counterpoint to his appearances which were childlike in some respects… one could almost tell by looking into his eyes that he had some small measure of maturity not typically found in other children his own age. Certainly they didn't look as though they were haunted or hardened, but merely guarded, as if there was something he was always thinking about which he didn't want to talk about.

Well, whatever it was, even the great Harry Potter was entitled to keep his own secrets, right?

As it got even later in the evening and her husband eventually returned home from work, and the few current occupants of the Burrow all went to bed (but not before Mrs. Weasley politely bade the snowy owl "good night"), she spent a little time contemplating the new kind of reality which she and her family were now in.

* * *

The next morning, Hedwig flew in, delivering a small parcel with a letter attached to the top of it. He opened it up and read it to himself… 

_Dear Harry,_

_  
Thank you so much for the thank-you note and the kind offer to pay for a new wand for Ron. We will gladly accept your offer._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Weasley_

_P.S. In the parcel is something for you and Ron, and any other friends of yours whom you would like to share it with._

Inside was a basket full of delicious-looking chocolate chip cookies, ones which Ron wanted to sink his teeth into as soon as he knew about their existence. In the end, both he and Harry agreed to just have one each for breakfast, and save the rest for later.

However, today was a Friday, and so they had their usual dreaded Double Potions class with the Slytherins. Fortunately, the thought of being able to get new wands gave both Ron and Neville the strength to make it through yet another grueling class under Snape's tutelage.

And so, after yet another agonizing Potions class, both Ron and Neville met up with Professor McGonagall to go to Ollivander's in Diagon Alley to get their new wands. Ron was also carrying a letter from Harry to Ollivander, saying that Harry himself would pay for Ron's new wand, and the amount could be taken out of his vault at Gringotts. After they left Hogwarts for Diagon Alley, Harry went back up to Gryffindor Tower to record Snape's actions from today onto his list of things which the Potions Master had said and done.

However, after he finished writing down the last sentence of this new addition to his list, he remembered about his idea which he expressed to Dumbledore about doing Potions on his own. He really wanted to hear back about that soon, especially since he wanted to be able to do these Potions successfully on his own in time for the final exams at the end of the year.

Harry put his list away and left Gryffindor Tower for the staff room, and he was nearly there when he heard a couple of unfamiliar yet hushed voices from around the last corner.

"You know, it may not have been such a bad idea to leave it here after all…" said a woman's voice.

"…true, but we're talking about that thing which Gilgamesh's plant –" a man's voice began to say, before abruptly stopping.

Harry, thinking fast and trying to avoid a way to make it look as though he had heard them – whoever these people were – he suddenly dropped his bookbag, causing his books to tumble out and slide across the floor.

Harry hoped he pulled off well the act of a student who was just collecting his things which he had accidentally dropped. True enough, just as the man and woman came around the corner, they saw a harried young student just trying to collect his things.

"Sorry," he mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear, "accidentally dropped my stuff…"

As soon as he retrieved his last book and put it back in his bag, he looked up at them, and they looked at him. They both looked to be in their late forties, or maybe even their early fifties. The man had a round face, wire-rimmed glasses, a scruffy brown beard, with his long brown hair tied back into a ponytail, while the woman had slightly lighter brown hair which cascaded down behind her more rectangular face.

"That's alright, young man," the woman said kindly. "What is your name?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am," he said politely.

They must not have seen the scar on his forehead, Harry decided, because the woman's eyes bulged a little, while the man looked politely interested. "So, this is the Harry Potter which I've heard quite a bit about, Claire?"

"Oh, stuff it," she told him, albeit a little playfully. Turning back to Harry, she shook his hand and said, "My name is Claire Woolley, and this is my husband, Melbourne."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter," he said, shaking Harry's hand the moment after his wife had let go. After he himself also released Harry's hand, he said, "I'm a professor at the University of Sussex, I teach about ancient cultures in the Middle East and Near East. I'm a Muggle myself, but my wife's the witch in the family."

"Pleased to meet both of you," Harry said politely.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore as he rounded the corner. "I see you have met one of my former students and her husband."

"We were just on our way out as we met him, Headmaster," Claire told him. "Thanks again for having us over."

"Anytime, Claire, Melbourne," said Dumbledore cheerfully, "anytime."

After the Woolleys left, Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, "Is there anything you would like to discuss with me, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said as they entered the staff room. "I'm sorry if I'm getting a little impatient, but I was wondering about the idea of me and maybe a few other students practicing Potions on our own."

"I surmised as much," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling a little. "And after giving it some thought, I have decided to allow you to do this. However, I would prefer that you have a student who is at least two years older than you with adequate marks in Potions supervising you. If you can find anyone who would be willing to do it, then I will reserve one of the less-used classrooms in the dungeons."

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yes, thank you, sir."

"If that is all…"

Taking the hint, Harry politely departed, heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

For Ron, the trip to Mr. Ollivander's had been interesting, to say the least. The old wandmaker was able to perfectly recite all the different wands which both of his parents and all of his older brothers before him had had over the years. And while Ron was glad to get his own brand-new wand, there was something just a little creepy about Mr. Ollivander which made the red-haired boy want to just take the wand, pay for it, and briskly walk out the store's front door as quickly as possible. Still, it had been rather "wicked," as Ron would have put it, when he got confirmation that this wand had been the right one for him – when what looked like a knight on horseback (with both rider and horse looking comprised entirely of red and gold sparks) pranced around him a couple of times before dissolving into air. 

Speaking of who paid for the wand… Ron was thinking about Harry and just how he should go about thanking the other boy. Even now, after these months of having known Harry Potter (and not the Boy-Who-Lived), Ron could see that Harry didn't want or even like his fame. Even though Harry's offer and act of paying for Ron's new wand made perfect sense, Ron himself was still a little bowled over by it.

Ron thought back to a few months prior when he and Harry got into that stupid argument about House pride, and afterwards, Ron had been so fuming about Harry's inability to see things his own way that he wrote a letter to his mother – more like a rant – about how much of a superior, haughty, rude boy Harry Potter was. Fortunately, in his own rage, Ron forgot to send it out afterwards, and it was only after he and Harry saved Hermione from the troll that he found it again, but this time, he quickly and discretely threw it in the fireplace in the common room before anyone could see it or read it. In retrospect, Ron was so grateful that he hadn't been able to send it out for his mother to read.

As he and Neville walked back up to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was mentally going over the different ways he could politely and profoundly thank Harry for his generosity.

* * *

Neville was carefully holding his own wand in its case in his hands as he walked with Ron up to Gryffindor Tower, afraid of anything happening to it as he walked there; after all, he didn't want anything to happen to it, since he just got it. 

While Mr. Ollivander was testing Neville to see what kind of wand would suit him, his grandmother had to make some kind of comment in front of everyone about how his father would be disappointed that his son couldn't even use his wand. The moment after that, Professor McGonagall requested that she talk to Mrs. Longbottom outside. While the two women were outside talking to each other, and Mr. Ollivander went through some wands to see which would work the best for Neville, the round-faced boy thought he heard his professor's voice saying things like "accepting that he is not his father" and "stop trying to make him something which he is not" (which Neville did his best to tune out as he went through the wands).

Finally, the two women came back in, with Professor McGonagall looking as though she was trying to hide satisfaction and Mrs. Longbottom looking as though she was trying to hide shock. However, they walked in just in time to see Neville choose the right wand for him, especially as it showed several green and brown tendrils of lights and sparks grow from the tip of his wand like vines, wrapping around themselves until they grew into an impressive tree which faded away after a moment.

Neville often had to wonder: What would his parents think of him? Would they be proud of him, ashamed of him, or still ready to accept him for what he was all the same? He had heard of what they were like from his grandmother and other relatives, and he figured that none of them would say something that was false or untrue about his parents. Hopefully, one day, he would be able to meet his own parents himself… but for now, he would have to make do on his own.

* * *

On the way up to his dorm room, Harry caught Ron in the common room, showing off his new wand and commenting loud enough for him to hear that it was "fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair." The redhead certainly seemed happy about it, and Harry was a little glad himself that he could make it so. 

As Harry was in his room, leaning back on his bed and thinking to himself, he thought about the encounter with those two people – Claire and Melbourne Woolley, was it? Their mentioning about a certain kind of plant, from some old myth… why did it seem to resonate with something deep within Harry's mind?

But then the scorpion people came to mind… as did the cuneiform writing which appeared both on that "portal" thing and the two halves of that object in Dumbledore's office.

Plant, myth, scorpion people, cuneiform… what was their connection? What was the one thing which combined them all?

But then there was that name which one of them had mentioned… the name of…

"_Gilgamesh!"_ Harry exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

_Now_ he remembered. It was the oldest known hero saga in the world, from ancient Sumer, about that king of the walled city of Uruk who wanted to be a hero and thus set out to slay monsters to make a name for himself or to find paths to immortality.

Getting off the bed, Harry stood up, got a few of his things together, and headed towards the library. Once he was there, he went into the section for books on myths and legends, and once he was there, he narrowed it down to that from ancient Mesopotamia. Once he found what he was looking for – a translation of the epic of Gilgamesh – he flipped through it, and in the last part of it, he found what he was looking for.

Towards the end of the epic, as Gilgamesh was getting older, he was looking for ways to become immortal. He sought out and visited the old Utnapishtim, the sole survivor of the Great Flood. Gilgamesh first tried to achieve immortality by staying awake for a full seven days, but he failed at that once he fell asleep almost right away. Still ambitious about becoming immortal, the hero begged the old man for some other way, and so Utnapishtim told him about a special kind of plant which restored a person's youth.

While this special kind of plant only restored youth, and not grant immortality, Gilgamesh went for it anyway. He did manage to collect the plant, but on the journey back, as he stopped for a moment and put it on the side, a hungry snake just happened to come along, snatched the plant and made away with it.

But now new thoughts were forming in Harry's mind… maybe this particular plant wasn't one of a kind, but was part of a species. Well, that would also have to be the case if Hogwarts was guarding it! And there might have to be more information about this plant somewhere, especially within Hogwarts' own library. However, he didn't know whether it could have been in the Restricted Section or not, and he didn't want to take his chances.

So, armed with the book about the tale of Gilgamesh, Harry went up to Madam Pince and sought her help. When he approached her, she looked a little distasteful at first, but no more than she did to any of the students. "Excuse me, Madam Pince," he said politely, "but I'm looking for information about a certain kind of plant. I know what it is and where it's from, but I don't know what it's called."

After showing her the plant in the book, she led him over to a shelf full of highly advanced books on magical flora and fauna. It turned out that, in the ages after Gilgamesh and when the epic was written, a name had been given to this plant by wizards who knew it existed because it was magical. It was called, appropriately, the Lost Plant of Gilgamesh.

Harry was continuing to put the pieces together in his mind. Maybe the plant had been preserved somehow inside that clay block whose halves were in Dumbledore's office? Based on the information which Harry had, it was most likely that the Woolleys had found it somewhere, and then given to Dumbledore for safekeeping.

Somehow, it seemed likely to Harry that it was being guarded behind the portal with the scorpion people, given their connection by ancient Mesopotamian myth. In which case, maybe Fluffy was guarding the other thing, whatever was in the package from the vault at Gringotts?

Harry had to bring this information back to Ron and Hermione. They needed to know about this too.

Once he got back to Gryffindor Tower, he saw the two of them during their work at a table in the common room. It appeared that because they couldn't find any information on Flamel, they were forced to spend more time doing their homework.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said. "Find anything?"

"Actually, yeah. No, it's not about Flamel," he quickly added after their attention perked, "but about something else."

"What is it, then?" Ron asked.

"Let me get something from my room first," Harry said. With all the excitement, he needed something to eat, like a snack, just something to give him a little energy. So, back in his room, he ended up taking one of the Chocolate Frogs which Hermione had given him for Christmas. He took his time walking back down the stairs to the table in the common room, so by the time he returned to where his friends were sitting, he had consumed the last bit of it.

"Hungry, much?" Ron commented.

"Yeah, I figured why not," Harry said. "Thanks again, Hermione."

"Certainly, Harry," she said courteously.

"So, who did you get?" Ron asked him, referring to the Chocolate Frog card.

Harry looked down at the card on his hand. "It's Dumbledore again. At least now I have spares…"

But then Harry remembered something else. Looking on the back, he saw what he and his friends had been seeking for more than a month.

As he realized that he had finally found what he was looking for, he just dimly heard Ron's and Hermione's voices in the background. "Hey, mate, what's going on?" "Harry, what is it?"

"I've found Flamel," he whispered to them, flipping the card over so its description was face-up, and then sliding it towards them.

There it was: Nicholas Flamel, whom Dumbledore had done work with in the field of alchemy.

As this information began to sink into them, Hermione in particular began to look as excited as when they had gotten back the marks for their very first homework assignments. After quickly telling Harry and Ron to "Stay there!" she sprinted up the stairs to her own dormitory, and then sprinted back down just as quickly with an enormous old book in her arms.

"I borrowed this from the library a little while ago for some light reading," Hermione explained ("_Light?"_ Ron repeated incredulously) as she opened the book and began flicking through it. After a few pages, however, Harry said to her, "Uh, Hermione… remember the lamp?"

Hermione blinked a couple of times, and then she remembered Harry's Christmas gift for her. "What? Oh, right! Good thinking, Harry. You know, I'm just so used to looking through the books myself… like trying to find a prize…"

She kept rambling like that as she once again sprinted to the staircase to the girls' dormitories and up them, and less than a minute later, she came back with her brand-new Word-Seeking Lamp. After she lit it, she took a small piece of scrap parchment and wrote the words "_Nicholas Flamel"_ on it, and then fed the piece of parchment to the lamp's flame. It flared for a moment, and a small but distinct ray of light shone from it and settled on a small space of the book itself.

As Hermione flipped through the pages the book, the ray of light remained, focused on where the name "Nicholas Flamel" would be deep within the books' pages. When she finally got to the right page, the ray of light from the lamp disappeared and its flames returned to normal.

After she found what she was looking for, she whispered excitedly to them, "It's the Philosopher's Stone!"

Ron gave her a blank look, but Harry looked thoughtful. "That sounds familiar," Harry said.

"It's the stone which gives the user immortality and unlimited gold," Hermione explained (and out the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw Ron's attention perk quite a bit). "And according to this book," Hermione continued, "the only stone currently in existence belongs to Nicholas Flamel, who, last year, celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday."

Both boys gawked at her, especially after hearing how old Flamel himself was. Hermione smiled and summed it all up, figuring out that the three-headed dog was guarding the stone, which Flamel had given to his friend Dumbledore for safekeeping. After Ron made some comment about how being six hundred and sixty-five years old doesn't count as being "recent," they all took a moment to think about it all.

They had found out what Fluffy was guarding and who Flamel was… but now what?

"I believe there was something else you wanted to tell us, Harry?" Hermione asked, suddenly remembering herself.

"Hm? Oh yeah," Harry mumbled, lifting up his own book onto the table. "I figured out what the other object is…"

So, Harry recapped about the youth-restoring plant in the epic of Gilgamesh. "According to the myth, Gilgamesh went out to find this plant which would restore a person's youth, which he did, but then he lost it to a snake when he wasn't looking. I think this is the same type of plant. Somehow, these couple of people – Claire and Melbourne Woolley – found this thing and gave it to Dumbledore for safekeeping."

Both Ron and Hermione looked amazed. "A stone which gives immortality _and_ a plant which restores youth?" Hermione thought out loud (although, wisely, not loud enough for everyone else to hear). "This might sound almost too good to be true."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking," Harry said, "that between the two of them, it would become too tempting for someone, just to get either one."

As they all fell silent again, with the identities of both magical objects confirmed, they thought about what else to do, now that they knew.

"So… what do we do now, now that we've found them?" Ron asked between them.

"I guess we keep quiet about it," Harry said with a shrug. "Not much else we can do, is there?"

* * *

Quirrell was having a bad day, even for someone like himself. His master claimed to be patient, being able to wait for years at a time to accomplish a single yet important goal, but at the moment, it didn't seem like it. 

"Master, please," he begged. "I am this close to finding a way to get the Philosopher's Stone…"

"I seem to recall you saying the same exact thing at the beginning of the school year," his master hissed.

Quirrell gulped. "Yes, yes I did, you're absolutely right, Master…"

"So what is the obstacle stopping you from doing so?"

"Just how to get the information from Hagrid on how to get past that beast of his…"

"Well, in which case, maybe I –"

But his master suddenly stopped talking, and then hissed directly to Quirrell, so low that only the two of them could hear it, "Someone is coming!"

And the next moment, much to Quirrell's surprise, there was a sensation of something being removed from his head, and he whipped his head around just in time to see a small black mist fleeing from him and across the room to a heavily guarded cabinet. Composing himself and putting on his "nervous professor" disguise yet again, Quirrell was ready just in time for whoever would cross the threshold.

"Quirinus, are you alright?"

It was Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Oh, um, y-yes, H-Headmaster," he stuttered.

"Your turban is loose," the headmaster pointed out.

Quirrell reflexively reached up to inspect his turban, and just by touching it, it came undone and fell about his shoulders.

Then Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "What is that on the back of your head?"

Thinking fast (and knowing that Dumbledore was talking about what looked like slightly decayed skin), Quirrell stuttered, "Z-Z-Zombie R-R-Rot."

Seeing Dumbledore's questioning expression, Quirrell elaborated that, during his trip to the summer in Africa, when he had gotten rid of that troublesome zombie, the aforementioned zombie had gotten a little too close for comfort in the struggle with it, and so he had been using the turban (a thank-you gift from the grateful prince) as a way to hide it.

"O-Oh, don't w-w-worry, H-Headmaster, I've b-been t-taking p-proper c-care of it," Quirrell added.

"Well, I must admit that I am a little surprised you didn't tell any of us," Dumbldore said. "That is to say, myself and your colleagues."

"Oh, w-well, I didn't th-think it w-was n-necessary," Quirrell said, having the good grace to look a little guilty. "A-and I-I-I _especially_ didn't w-want t-to t-tell th-the st-students…"

"Because of not only the rumors, but also because of that inevitable panicky or overprotective parent who might make a fuss over it?" Dumbledore helpfully supplied.

Quirrell simply nodded.

"Ah, don't worry, Quirins, your secret is safe with me," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "Would you happen to have any idea when it will be completely cured?"

"H-hopefully b-by n-next year," Quirrell said, daring to smile a little. _Besides, when my plans succeed, you won't even be here next year,_ Quirrell thought maliciously.

"That's the spirit. Well, good day, Quirinus, and get well soon."

"Th-thank y-you, H-Headmaster. Good day."

After Dumbledore left, Quirrell waited a few moments, just to make sure that Dumbledore was a safe distance away. Once he was sure again, he strode over to the cabinet into which his disembodied master had fled. After unlocking the enchanted cabinet with a special spell, Quirrell looked at and addressed an ugly black vase. On it was a snakelike face with catlike red eyes – and it moved.

"That was close," Quirrell commented.

"Obviously," his master said, sounding rather annoyed. "Then again, that is why we had this vase, isn't it?"

Quirrell nodded. "True, my master."

"And now I must return."

Quirrell nodded a little stiffly, and after putting Silencing Charms on the room, he collected his turban and approached the vase.

If anyone could have heard what was happening inside the office, they would have heard an agonizing scream…

* * *

During their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, as Quirrell was explaining about how to treat werewolf bites, Harry and Ron would occasionally whisper back and forth about what they would do with their own Philosopher's Stone. It was only after Ron said that he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about the upcoming match which Snape would be refereeing. 

Later on, when they brought up the topic of the upcoming Quidditch match again, Harry told them that he had made his decision. "I'm going to play," he said. "I'm not going to let Snape scare me off from playing, and I'm not going to let certain students – Slytherin or otherwise – have something else to use against me."

With that settled, they all accepted it, and Hermione gave him another warning about staying safe, as usual.

* * *

Harry knew that in order to have been a Gryffindor, he had to be Sorted into the House because he was brave and noble. And while he humbly considered himself to be a noble enough person, he wondered just how brave he was, between his years of being "raised" by the Dursleys and when he was subsequently raised by Pim, with him being secluded away from the world in both cases, albeit in different ways. He never really had a chance to test or measure his bravery before. He also wondered now if, just because you had a certain quality, that meant you were supposed to possess and display it all the time. 

Right now, Harry was feeling nervous, much like the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, because they had the first chance in seven years of being able to overtake Slytherin in the House championship, but now they didn't know if they could, especially because of how they were going to have such a biased referee for the upcoming match.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but to him, it seemed as though Snape had become even nastier to Harry after he found out about the Philosopher's Stone, even though the young Gryffindor didn't really see how that was possible. In fact, Harry was now also beginning to wonder if Snape could somehow read minds.

* * *

The night before the Quidditch match, Harry and Neville went into one of the lower dungeons after dinner, carrying their cauldrons and supplies with them. Neville was the first one which Harry told about these independent Potions lessons, and once Neville learned that Snape would have nothing to do with it, he all too happily agreed to it. 

The older student who agreed to help them was Penelope Clearwater, the fifth-year female Ravenclaw prefect. Initially, Harry had asked Percy in the halls if he would be willing to do it, but Percy said that he was too busy doing his prefect duties and studying for his OWLs at the end of the year. At that moment, Penelope overheard the discussion between Harry and Percy, and volunteered to do it herself. Harry said she didn't have to, but Penelope said that she wouldn't mind. Internally, Harry wondered if either Penelope was less studious than she could have been, or if Percy was more studious than he needed to be.

Penelope was already waiting for them, ready to go. Harry entered the room first, with Neville right behind him. However, barely a moment later, the door opened yet again to admit six other people: Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender.

"Wow, I didn't expect everyone to turn up," Harry commented.

"We heard about this little 'independent study session' of yours, and we decided to try it out," Hermione said.

"Why you too?" Harry asked Hermione. "I mean, you're probably the best at Potions out of all of us…"

Hermione merely shrugged. "I figured it couldn't hurt to try it myself, at least once."

Soon enough, they got things underway, and wisely, they decided to start back at the beginning, to their very first Potions lesson, with that simple potion meant to cure boils. Instead of constantly picking on them and snarling at them, Penelope pointed out little things and subtle hints, encouraging them to do what they needed to do in order to make it properly. Neville only had to ask for help once, and by the time they were all done, the forgetful boy had actually brewed his potion so well that Penelope gave him a very approving, satisfied smile. In fact, Neville looked so overwhelmed that he had brewed his own potion so well that he looked like he would faint at any moment.

As Penelope stepped out for a moment, just to take a short break, Harry quietly motioned to the other Gryffindors to meet with him.

"So, what do you think?" he told them.

"I think this was a great idea, Harry," Ron said, grinning a little.

"Maybe we should tell Professor Snape that we can do these potions after all…" Hermione mused.

"No," Harry suddenly cut across, making them all look at him. Collecting himself, he reiterated, "I'm sorry, what I mean is… no, I don't think we should tell Snape about this. We're here, trying to learn this on our own_because_ of Snape and how he 'teaches' us. If he knew about this, he would just raise the stakes or something with how he treats us in class."

The other Gryffindors could all see his point. So, they all agreed to let things continue as they had thus far, without any interference from Snape.

As Penelope came back in, they all went back to their individual cauldrons, and began to review another few potions before it became really late at night.

* * *

The next day, as Harry was listening to Wood's pep talk (or at least pretending to do so), he wondered just how things would play out. By this point, just about everyone in the school knew about how, while Snape generally disliked all Gryffindors, he especially disliked Harry Potter for reasons unknown. Harry himself just hoped that he wouldn't have to watch out for Snape so much that he would miss the Snitch. 

Meanwhile, in the crowd, Hermione was carrying her wand in her hand and a worried look on her face (much to the confusion of Neville, who was nearby but too busy looking out for Malfoy and his fellow Slytherins). After Malfoy had used the Leg-Locker Curse on Neville, she got the idea of using it on Snape if the Potions Master tried anything.

Meanwhile, back in the locker room, Wood was telling Harry that if they ever needed an early capture of the Snitch, then it was now. Meanwhile, Ron peeked out of the locker room and noticed something: Dumbledore was out there. Now the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team – Harry especially – felt better, knowing that Snape wouldn't dare try anything with the Headmaster out there, watching the whole thing. Indeed, when they walked out and saw the angry look on Snape's face, Dumbledore's presence may have just been the reason why.

As the game got started, Hermione suddenly sensed someone coming up behind her. Turning around, she saw that it was Neville, looking a little worried.

"Hermione," he said, trying to keep himself as calm as possible, "it's Malfoy and the others."

Sure enough, Malfoy, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, were in their presence.

"Well, well," Malfoy said haughtily, "I didn't see you there."

Hermione purposely ignored him and focused on the game, while Neville did his best to follow suit. However, Malfoy was nowhere close to being finished with them.

"You know something," he purposely said aloud for anyone nearby to hear, "I think they purposely let onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team the people they feel sorry for. Let's see… first there's Potter, who's got no family… then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money… maybe both of you should try out for the team, since you've got no brains, Longbottom, and you've got no knowledge of _true_ wizarding culture for how smart you claim to be, Granger."

If Hermione was at all insulted by Malfoy's insinuation that she was ignorant of the very world she lived and studied in, then she didn't show it; Neville, on the other hand, was slowly turning a dangerous red. Then, with such bravery and wit which even Hermione hadn't expected, Neville turned around and told Malfoy, albeit a little nervously, "If that's true, Malfoy, then why don't you try out for the Gryffindor team? Because I don't think you or your friends have any talent in Potions?"

Hermione had to admit that she didn't see that one coming, and she did her best not to smirk or shake from laughing. Likewise, Malfoy had to admit that he didn't he didn't see that one coming either, but on the other hand, he looked positively insulted.

Neville's newfound bravery surprised even himself – perhaps getting a new wand and finding out he wasn't so bad at Potions had given him new confidence in himself?

"Oh?" he said in a haughty tone. "What gives you that idea, Longbottom?"

"The fact that Snape practically gives out grades like candy to you," Neville said simply. "No matter how badly you foul up your own potions," he then added.

For all of Malfoy's willingness to taunt and humiliate others, he certainly did not take to being taunted or humiliated himself. Unable to stand for it, he strode up towards the round-faced Gryffindor, taking out his own wand and getting ready to hex him – but Neville was ready for him.

"_Locomotor Mortis!"_ he shouted, and Malfoy's legs suddenly snapped together, causing him to fall forward and face-down at Neville's feet. With their instincts finally kicking in, Crabbe and Goyle picked Malfoy up and carried him off, dumbly looking for someone who might be able to take the curse off of him.

Neville looked up to find that Hermione had finally turned around, and was looking at him with something akin to awe. "Neville, that was… I mean, I can't believe you…"

As she looked for the right words, Neville suddenly noticed something, and pointed at something up in the air, exclaiming, "Hermione, look! Harry's got the Snitch!"

Indeed, Harry had caught the devious Snitch. Mere moments before, he had noticed something past Snape, and deciding to give his Potions Master a little surprise, he zoomed at him as though he were going to ram him… but then rushed right past him in a blur of scarlet, catching the Snitch.

All around them, the stands erupted in excitement. No one could remember the Snitch being caught so quickly, so this had to be a record. As Harry flew in close to the ground and jumped off his broom, he couldn't believe it either, that he had caught the Snitch in less than five minutes. As the Gryffindors came spilling out onto the pitch to congratulate him, Harry could also see Dumbledore sedately walking his way. Once the Headmaster had arrived, he quietly said to Harry, "Good job, my boy… nice to see that you haven't been dwelling on your dreams too much…"

However, for a brief moment, Harry thought he saw Snape some distance away, looking white-faced and tight-lipped, and as Harry turned away, he thought maybe he heard the Potions Master spitting bitterly on the ground.

* * *

Far beyond the outskirts of the village of Hogsmeade, the Darkness was hiding in a cave. 

She knew that it would do no good to cause yet another bit of random chaos at this sporting event as she did at the previous one. No matter, because she would conserve her resources for trying to obtain the Lost Plant of Gilgamesh at the end of the academic school year, when there would be less people to notice her – not that the school's hundreds of students could really do anything to stop her, anyway.

For now, she would leave the premises of Hogwarts, and even all of Great Britain, turning her attention to something of significant interest to her elsewhere in the world – something which she would have to acquire there in order to make her plans play out here.

Yet again, she would have smiled if she were capable of doing so.

Amu was certainly pleased, because everything was going to plan…

* * *

Harry took his time in the locker room, relishing in the fact that he had painlessly been able to win a Quidditch match with Snape as its referee. Even as he walked out to the shed to safely store his broom away, he happily relived the events of the previous hour, with the brief but still exciting event and the subsequent praise from his fellow Gryffindors for it. The fact that Snape hadn't managed to do anything to him either was a bonus. 

However, at this point, Harry noticed a hooded figure swiftly walking from the front steps of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. The very manner in which this figure walked indicated that whoever it was didn't want to be seen. Looking closer, Harry could identify that prowl as Snape's.

_What would Snape be doing, sneaking outside while everyone else is at dinner?_ Harry thought to himself. Thinking about it as he went along, Harry jumped back onto his broom and took off. He glided silently over the castle, observing Snape's route from above, and as he saw the Potions Master draw closer to the forest's edge, Harry followed. As he was doing it, Harry realized that it would probably be better if he had his Invisibility Cloak with him at this point, but it was too late for that now…

Once Snape entered the forest, tracking him proved to be a bit more of a challenge for Harry, because the canopy was so thick. Not knowing where to look, Harry slowly and silently flew around in circles until he heard something.

Once he heard someone's voice, Harry stopped where he was in midair, hovering as he leaned in to listen to whoever was in the shadowy clearing below.

Quirrell was stuttering worse than ever, wondering aloud why Snape would want to meet him here, of all places, to which Snape replied in an icy voice about how the students weren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all. Harry leaned in even closer, so much that he nearly touched the treetops. Meanwhile, the conversation continued, with the Potions Master demanding to know how to get past Fluffy, threatening a nearly-petrified Quirrell with the fact that he didn't want Snape as an enemy.

With one last comment about how Quirrell ought to consider where his loyalties lie, Snape threw his cloak back over his head, and strode off. Harry lingered for a little bit longer, at was about to fly back towards the castle, when he suddenly heard Quirrell speak again.

"That rigid fool," Quirrell said angrily, seemingly to himself, "if only he weren't so mindlessly devoted to his own ridiculous cause, he might be able to actually see things as they _really_ are."

Harry nearly fell off his broom; not only was it what Quirrell had said, but how he had said it. How come he wasn't nervous or stuttering at all?

Harry quickly flew off, deeper into the Forbidden Forest, instead of back towards Hogwarts; he didn't want Snape or Quirrell see him overhead. In a wide arc, he turned around and ascended even higher into the air, to keep out of sight and return to the castle itself from a different direction. Once he was back at the Quidditch pitch, he quickly put his beloved Nimbus Two Thousand back in its shed, and briskly walked back towards the castle.

* * *

In his tower, Pim was going over the latest results of his test with the nuclear reactor. It turned out that using magical safeguards as well as technological safeguards to prevent an accident was really a rather good idea. It was really the only alternative he had, between that and the glowing crystals which he was still unsure about. 

The timing couldn't have been better, really. Spring holiday was coming up, and to make up for the incident over Christmas break with that tricky mirror, Pim had a special place in mind to take Harry for their holiday. And now that he had the nuclear reactor working, he could speed up a certain other process just in time…

In one of his many cavernous vaults hidden inside the surrounding mountains, Pim had more than merely treasures which he could use to pay or occasionally even bribe people with. Among them were various supplies and even experiments of sorts, and in one big container, there was something which was an answer to one of Pim's problems.

No one knew what the original name for this product was, but the ancient Greeks called it the "Clay of Life." There were many claims about its origins, and the most popular one had been that the Titan Prometheus had stolen it from Mount Olympus as he was stealing fire to give to Man, and that it was the original clay from which the first race of humans were made from (the same race of humans which, according to Greek mythology, were made as far back as the Titans' rule over the world, but then were destroyed by the great flood, and then replaced with the stronger men made from the stones which the survivors Deucalion and Pyrrha threw over their shoulders).

Fortunately, the British Ministry of Magic did not to consider this substance to be "Dark," probably because they didn't even know that it existed; one way or another, most texts describing the Clay of Life had been destroyed or lost over the millennia. This made things even easier for Pim, who was now creating a new body for himself.

Even now, in one of the upper levels of his tower, which was otherwise empty and unused, there was a big tank in which there appeared to be a male adolescent human figure, floating peacefully in the slightly golden fluid. In another few days, it would look like a young adult, just as Pim did for so long.

Pim was pleased, for things seemed to be going his way once again.

* * *

A few floors up, Harry was drawn to the familiar voices of Ron and Hermione, who happened to be arguing back and forth over whether to look for Harry or to wait for him, and if so, then where they should do so. However, their argument was rendered moot by the sight of their friend approaching them. 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"Yeah, mate, everyone's waiting for you at the party back in the common room!" Ron added. "Fred and George got lots of stuff to eat and drink there."

Making sure that they were in a deserted corner with no one to hear them, Harry told them about what he had just witnessed with Snape and Quirrell. As if Snape's own confirmation that the object being guarded by Fluffy was the Philosopher's Stone wasn't enough, there was also the revelation about Quirrell speaking normally and even angrily, and not sounding nervous or stuttering as he talked.

Both Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, simply shocked. However, before either of them could respond, they heard Peeves bouncing off some suits of armor, and decided to vacate the area and head back to Gryffindor Tower before the poltergeist could spot them.

As they approached the portrait hole, the Fat Lady couldn't help but comment about the moods they seemed to be in. "Is everything alright?"

Deciding to answer for all of them, Harry simply told her, "Nothing, we just got something on our minds, that's all."

The Fat Lady nodded, and then said, "_Quand le mystère est trop impressionnant, on n'ose pas désobéir."_

All three Gryffindors looked at her, a little confused, but she just shrugged and said, "I apologize, it's just something which I saw in a book once. That was the original French, and in English, it translates to, 'When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey."

Harry's eyes brightened a little, as did Hermione's, because they both recognized the quote. "I remember where that comes from, I read that book back in primary school," he said to the Fat Lady and for Ron and Hermione to hear.

"So did I!" Hermione exclaimed a little excitedly, while Ron looked to be in the dark.

"Anyway, what is the password?" the Fat Lady asked, not forgetting her duty.

After they gave her the password and then entered, they joined the lively victory party, but even as they ate and drank, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hid what they were truly thinking about at the moment and what they thought of it.

* * *

A/N: I admit, this was something of a transitional or filler chapter, but I hope I did it well. At least I finally got around to having Harry find out about the Philosopher's Stone and what I call the Lost Plant of Gilgamesh. I hope I didn't drag it out too long with the suspense through all these chapters… 

**Regarding the chapter title… it's a quote based on a line from _The Little Prince_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: "_When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey."_ (I think this sentiment sums up the adventurous, mystery-solving spirit which Harry and his friends share throughout the books.)**

With Ron and Neville, I decided to have them get new wands sooner, just because. As for Neville, just because he now has a new wand that works, he won't suddenly become perfect at everything he does; he'll just be less likely to cause problems with it. And as for what comes out of either of their wands the first time they use them… what did you think of Ron's knight on horseback or Neville's tree?

What did you think of the twist with Dumbledore visiting Quirrell and finding him Voldemort-less? (Maybe this could have actually happened at one point in the canon book?)

With the identity of "the Darkness"… yeah, it's Amu, I decided to stop beating around the bush and just reveal it already.

Also, how was the twist with Quirrell not sounding nervous or stuttering?

As for the thing with Pim and his new body… maybe I've been reading and watching too much science-fiction (or maybe Pim has!).

Furthermore, the thing which the Fat Lady said in French was the quote from _The Little Prince_ from which this chapter's title is derived.

_You know what do to… review!_

–_**Quillian**_  
**(First posted: December 30, 2007)**


	15. NOTICE: Story update & title change

Hello again, everyone. I don't even know how many of you are still around, but it only seemed right to post another message and let you know what's what.

I've got bad news and I've got good news. The bad news first...

I honestly don't know if I can even update this fic at this point. It was easy to write this and all my other fanfiction last decade when I was just a student in high school and then in college, but now that I'm well beyond college (this marks 4 years since I graduated) and STILL trying to find a decent paying job in the world, well, as you can imagine fanfiction ranks low on the list of priorities, especially in contrast to things like paying for food and paying off college loans.

There are some days I wish I had never even gotten involved in fanfiction in the first place: I fully admit it, there are times it has been an obsession, even an addiction, which has cost me things like better grades and peace of mind. Please don't take that the wrong way. In fact, being able to interact and communicate with you, Dear Readers, has been worth it more often than not.

Fanfiction made for nice practice, but maybe it's time to move onto something real. Besides, as interesting as this fic has been, I certainly don't want to spend the rest of my life devoted to writing some rewrite of the HP saga, including OCs of mine like Pim and others. You can understand that, right?

So just in case there's any doubt, please take the following words to heart: _**YOU, DEAR READERS, WHO HAVE READ AND REVIEWED MY STORIES AT ANY POINT ALL THESE YEARS: I APPRECIATE YOUR FEEDBACK AND SUPPORT; I HAVE ALWAYS REMEMBERED YOU, AND I WILL NEVER FORGET ABOUT YOU.**_ You have my promise on that.

So, in short; yeah, I don't know about the future of this fic. That's the bad news. **BUT, I do have good news.**

I've been putting off writing my own original fiction for a while (especially for all the job-hunting), but perhaps now is as good a time as any to get started. Who knows, maybe it might actually be profitable as well as enjoyable. I don't expect to get rich off of it, but if helps pay the bills, then that would be enough.

How about it? How about leaving behind fanfiction and rewritten stories and taking a ride with something original? If you like sci-fi like _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek_ or _Stargate_ or _Halo_ or _Mass Effect_ or fantasy like _Harry Potter_ (and if you're reading and following this fic, of course you do), then you might like what I have in store...

Heck, in my last announcement, I even posed the question of taking my OC Pim, disentangling him from my HP fanfic, and writing something original with him. The people who wrote back to me about that seemed fairly optimistic and confidant about that.

Go to my YahooGroup and log in, where maybe I'll be able to reinvent myself and invent some new stories too.

Most importantly, I promise not to let this planned, original saga drop like my HP fanfic. I'll even write a sworn statement and swear it upon a stack of Bibles, if that's what it takes. Whatever it takes to prove it to you, Dear Readers.

Back to you, Dear Readers.

Oh, and please, _**DON'T LEAVE A REVIEW FOR THIS SHORT**_** MESSAGE.** But I will leave this message up for a day or so.

-Quillian (May 28, 2013)


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